Annie Wright School - Shield Yearbook (Tacoma, WA)

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10 H Y A K I wondered if my father would be out to meet me. I hoped my mother wouldn’t, as there seemed to be a storm coming up. I won- dered if they would look different after my fourteen months’ ab- sence. I w ' ondered — “There is your father now!” Someone’s voice broke in on my wonderings, and I rushed to that side of the boat to see if it were really true. There he was, stand ing on top of the crazy little launch that cut in a haphazard way through the whiteeaps. As the anchor was let down the launch came alongside with a bump. I grew dizzy watching my father (who had not changed at all) so far below, and dizzier as I realized that in a few moments I should be beside him. All such feelings left me when the captain called to my father, “Do you think it is safe to land her?” “No, I think not,” my father answered, but with a wink, to my delight. First my suit case and boxes went over the side, and the next mo- ment I found myself crawling down the shaky rope ladder. Shall I ever forget that moment ! It seemed unreasonably long, but as a big wave brought the lighter up to meet me. someone cried “Jump!” and with a backward spring I landed in my father’s arms. F. O. ROOT, ’12. • “Sunrise S the east begins to shade into the early pink of dawn, it is like receiving some strange, mysterious message to sit and watch the mountain as it takes on its morning glow. First there is nothing unusual, just a cold, gray mountain, with a deep lavender tint around the base. Suddenly one begins to see, along the edge of the side toward the east, a line of gold, which widens and widens until at last the whole side is aglow with sunlight, while the sun has not yet risen above the range and the western side is still in the shadow. A few tiny clouds above the place where the sun seems about to rise look like bits of molten gold. There is about the whole scene an effect like the approach of a herald who announces the coming of a king and warns all to be ready to do him homage. One feels quite ready to bow humbly before the “King of Day.” When at last he leaps into the sky from behind the rang( T MINNIE CHAMBERS, ’ll.

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H Y A K 9 An Exciting Moment AM afraid it will be too stormy to land you at Katalla,” the grizzly old captain said. “But maybe we will have fair weather on our return trip,” he added, seeing my disappointment. Bight days on the northern seas in November is a thing few people enjoy and the prospect of having it lengthened into sixteen did not seem particularly pleasing. The wind had been raw and cutting and the decks flooded most of the time with a driving sleet. Yet they were rather to be chosen than the stuffy cabin. I was standing in the point of the boat at seven the next morning. The sea was calm, and the air soft, almost balmy with the fickle Chinook wind. Ahead were the blue hills of some large island. I wondered where we could be, as I had understood that we would not see land until the following day. “That’s your new home, little girl,” and the gruff old Norwegian captain stood beside me. “The island is Kyak and Katalla is just be- hind it on the main land.” “Oh, and you are going to put me off after all ?” I questioned. “Yes,” he answered. “Last night when that northeaster went down we turned in directly. It may yet .blow up too bad a storm for the launch to come out for you.”... “Surely not with this warm wind blowing?” I interrupted.. “Don’t place too much confidence in a ehinook,” said he with a shake of his head. We went down to breakfast, but as soon as I had had my toast and tea, I was back at my post in the prow of the boat, to find that we were gliding along beside the island and could see the little town a few miles from it. W T hat a funny little place! Just a handful of houses on the edge of the sea. Three great bars stretched out between us like the fingers of some giant’s hand. I now understood why, in stormy weather, the little launch towing the big scow could not come out to us, and it was just as evident why a steamer could not go within three miles of the land. The wind was changing. At last the launches could be seen riding over the sea, which seemed to roughen as the wind swung more and more to the north.

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H y A K 11 My First Joy Ride” X T never surprises me to hear some one say, “Oh, the funniest thing happened to me once when I was a wee tot,” for it was just at that age that I took my most exciting trip. I was the only niece, consequently a very much petted and humored one. In particular, a young uncle, about sixteen or seventeen years old, was always planning something or other that would please me. He was the proud possessor of a huge Newofundland dog. One day as he was surveying Jack’s massive proportions an idea struck him. “I’ll make a little wagon,” he announced to my mother, “hitch Jack to it and take the baby for a ride.” I was only four years old. A day or so later Uncle Fred came into the house and said, “Where’s the baby? The wagon is all ready and I’m going to give her a fine ride.” Mother gave her consent, for it was a fine spring day. I settled myself in the box-wagon behind old Jack. Oh, dear, but I was proud ! Why, I was as proud as a queen on her throne. At first everything went splendidly. I was having the best time of my little life. Mother was watching from the door, and Uncle Fred was walking along beside the wagon. Suddenly Jack spied a cat and with one leap forward he was off after her. He raced down the street as fast as he could go. Uncle Fred running frantically after us. Poor mother! There she stood in the door, almost paralyzed from fright. She expected the wagon to overturn any minute and throw me on the pavement, which might have resulted seriously. But was I afraid? Not at all, I was having the gayest time possible, laughing and waving my hands in the air. Poor Jack soon tired of running with such a load and stopped. When I reached home again I was wild with delight over my ride and eager to tell mother all about it. Of course, she saw the funny side of it when she had me in her arms, safe and sound, but it was far from funny to her while it was happening. To my sorrow, that was the last time I was allowed to go off on a “joy ride” with my young uncle. IDA SIMMONS, ’ll.