Arlington High School - Indian Yearbook (Arlington, MA)

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THE ARLINGTON HIGH SCHOOL CLARION. 5 sued, firing in vain ; they would never more see their loved friend and trusted counselor. Again several months had passed, and Betty was seated in her old place in the chimney corner. But what a change ! How sad and lonely the months had been ! Kind friends had offered to take Betty into their home, but she had re- fused, preferring to remain in the old house that remembrance made so dear. Spring had come with its myriad birds and early flowers, but they, calling to Betty, had awakened no glad response in her heart. Her life, she thought, was like the dead ashes on the hearth — all that remained of the once cheerful blaze. She had forgotten in her desolation that there is one who gives “beauty for ashes.” But hark! In the midst of her med- itation, a slight noise at the door, hurry- ing footsteps across the room, a quick withdrawing of the bolt, and one joyous cry — “Father !” Though scarce a ghost of himself, yet it was Nathan Bradford who clasped his little daughter in his arms. After he had had food and rest Betty begged him to tell her how he had been so miraculously restored. “Well, Betty,” be said, “it was all owing to your Indian. After I had been seized and carried out of the reach of my companions, I was blindfolded and made to go where my captors led me. We must have been traveling thus for about eight hours (though it seemed an eter- nity to me) when we reached their camp. Here I was put under guard while the Indians proceded to hold a council about me. “Then followed day after day of awful suspense. They did not ill treat me but guarded me carefully — one Indian after another performing this duty at night while the others slept. “Something told me that they meant to kill me, but I could not understand why they delayed. At last I decided they were awaiting the arrival of some other In- dian. This surmise proved correct when, at the end of about two months, I should say, the expected one arrived. Imagine my surprise, Betty, when I discovered that he was your Indian with the same wounded hand and with your blanket slung across his shoulder. The other Indians talked with him a great deal, but seemed to come to no decision. “As night drew near I found out that he was to guard me, and this gave me a little hope. This hope proved to be not without foundation for after all the others were silently sleeping he loosened my bonds, and, motioning me to follow him, started swiftly and silently away from the camp. “Though he set a rapid pace, I followed closely, dreading lest I should lost sight of him in the darkness. We traveled all night, and dawn found us in familiar territory. “When we reached the outskirts of the wood my guide halted abruptly. I mo- tioned him to proceed with me, but after giving me one long, steadfast glance be turned and hastened away in the direc- tion from which we had come. I feel certain, little daughter, that I owe mv release to his remembrance of your loVing kindness.” Betty never saw her Indian again, but in after life he was often in her thoughts. What had become of him ? Did he return to be slain by bis merciless and angry companions? Many times she hoped that on his way back he had died from ex- haustion and the effect of his old wound, and that he had gone to the Great Spirit whose child he was. ALICE COTTON, 1912. AFTER THE HAMMER FELL. A laughing group of students was gathered about a notice posted outside of Bob Cabot’s window. “What in time is Cabby up to now inquired Billy Mason, craning his neck to look over the shoulders of those in front. “An auction ? What for?” “Oh. Cabby’s a wise guy. He needs some money bad, and doesn ' t want to borrow, so lie ' s going to have an auc-

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4 THE ARLINGTON HIGH SCHOOL CLARION. and away in the distance the ocean melts into the horizon. By turning directly around we have the view of the lakes, sheets of silver dotted with emeralds. A short distance away are the farms laid out in perfect squares. Far away over these are the snowy summits of the White Mountains. We decide to descend the mountain by way of the path. On the way down we add a stone to the many stone piles beside the path. First we tumble, then we slide, and after a while we reach the foot, none the worse for our hurried descent. Again taking the carriage we drive back to the wharf and about seven o ' clock, leave for Boston on the boat. There is a full moon and as we look back on the village and mountains bathed in silvery moonlight, we resolve to carry away this picture to remind us of a hap- pv day spent in Camden by the Sea. JENNIE N. PRINCE, 1911. BETTY’S INDIAN. The blazing log in the open fire-place sputtered and fell apart sending a shower of sparks up the huge chimney, and cast- ing a ruddy glow over the rough board room, now darkening in the winter twi- light. The last flicker rested lovingly on the face of the sole occupant of the rGom, who, from a settle in the chimney corner, was gazing thoughtfully into the flames. She was a tall, slender girl, with deli- cate, flower-like features and deep blue eyes shaded by long lashes. A mass of wavy black hair crowned her head, and curled lightly round her brow. Not even a rough home-spun dress could spoil a certain dainty feminine charm that seemed inseparable from its wearer. Only little red hands showed that hers was a life of toil. Her name was Betty Bradford. She had come to this place three years before with her father, who had become the main-stay and leader of the little settlement against the Indians. As the commotion occasioned by the falling log subsided, she roused herself from her reverie, and, going to the door, took down the huge bar and peered eagerly out into the darkness. A blast of cold air greeted. “How late father is in returning,” she thought. “I hope he will not remain out much longer on such a bitter night.” Just then a black object moving across the wide expanse of snow caught her at- tention. As it crawled to her feet, Betty discovered that it was an Indian, half exhausted with the cold. Never thinking of fear, without a moment’s hesitation, she motioned him to enter. He went straight to the fire and sat down before it. Betty noticed that his hand was wounded and that his clothing was thin. As he seemed to inhale eagerly the fumes of the savory stew that was bubbling in a kettle on the crane, she offered him some in a wooden bowl. He drank it greedily and appeared somewhat refreshed. Then Betty climbed into the little loft overhead, and returned with a big blanket. As she was about to hand this to the Indian she saw her father standing, musket in hand, in the door- way. “Elizabeth, what are you doing? Know you not that these accursed creatures are our enemies, the murderers and captors of our friends and neighbors?” “But, father, he was cold and hungry. Surely it was you who first taught me to say, ‘love your enemies.’ ” Nathan Bradford slightly relaxed the severity of his countenance. “Perhaps you are right, little daughter,” he said. “At any rate, I will not betray him.” He stepped away from the door and the Indian passed quickly out into the night, scanning Nathan’s features closely as he passed him. Several months went by happily enough for Betty, in spite of the daily routine of hard work. But one day she received some news that shut out all the sunshine of her life. A neighbor brought the tidings of how Nathan had wandered into the woods too far from his companions, and how, on hearing his cries, they had hastened to the spot just in time to see him being borne swiftly into the forest by four of the dreaded Indians. They had pur-

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6 THE ARLINGTON HIGH SCHOOL CLARION. tion in his rooms and auction off some of his glad rags,” explained Merrill. Jove! Me for a dress-suit!” began Dick Holway. I need one like time, and — ” “Oh you Dick ! Same here, I see where there’s some tall bidding,” broke in Phil Wentworth, with a smile. “Me for his new pumps ! Pretty kip- py pieces of furniture, I call ’em.” “I’m going in strong for his snappy overcoat, if he has it up for sale,” said Merrill. “Heigho, — here’s Cabby him- self!” and a shout was raised which spoke well for Bob Cabot’s popularity among his friends. “Well, are you sports coming to my auction sale Thursday?” inquired he, beaming genially on all. “Sure, we’ll be there with tinsel on,” answered Holway, speaking for the crowd. “What is it, Bob? Debts too heavy for you?” inquired Billy Mason. “Why don’t you try the pawn-shop? Go to Rubenstein’s — Ruby’s a jewel for fair,” — looking fondly at two pawn-tickets which he had drawn from his pocket. “Can’t. — Father’s on to it and made a kick. Not enough money in it anyway. Yes, I’m hard up for money and this seems to be the easiest thing. I don’t get any more money from home until the thirtieth and here it is only the sixth. I guess I can manage to live without so many clothes for a month. I’ll try and get some of them back then, paying in- terest, if you say so.” “How interesting, ' ’ murmured Billy. “ Purina nee, thy name is Mason,” growded Holway. “We shall have to punish you punctiliously. “Out with him ! Roll him in the snow,” roared the others, and then pro- ceeded to suit the action to the words. Then Wentworth asked, anxiously. — “Are you really going to buy your dress- suit back. Bob? I’m willing to put up a good price for it. I need one bad and — ” “Oh well, it all depends. Of course it may be so worn that it would pay to buy a new one, you know,” drawled Bob. •‘Wouldn’t any one think I was a dead game sport, though !” exclaimed Phil. “Hear him rave! Tell you what boys, let’s make it a point not to let Cabby buy any of his things back until the first of March. That’s two months, and I reallv think that he shouldn’t attend so many social functions.” “He sure can’t if we have his clothes,” laughed Merrill. “Good idea. Phil, — for you. All right, then, — no glad rags for Cabby for two months !” “Oh, I say fellows !” pleaded Bob — “That ' s a nice way to treat your little friend. — Why, I might have a hurry bid somewhere and want some decent clothes more than they’re worth.” “What if Janet should invite you some- where, Caleb? maliciously inquired Hol- way. Bob whistled. Then his ' face fell. “Things don’t seem to lie that way just at present,” he said, very gravely for him. Oh well, buck up, old man !” cried Billy, clapping him on the back. “These are going to be pretty dead months, I guess, by the looks of things. There’ll be nothing doing, — absolutely nothing.” “Let us hope not,” came fervently from Bob. Then, — “ advertise this thing around, will you, boys? Thank heaven. I have got plenty of clothes, at any rate, but perhaps ’twould be wise to save out two common suits, at least.” A few minutes later, the crowd dis- persed, full of Bob Cabot’s latest money making scheme. So enthusiastically had the auction been noised about college, that twentv students, or more, had gathered in Bob’s room on Thursday afternoon to witness the fun. Promptly at three o’clock, Bob, en- veloped in a long linen duster, and wear- ing a pair of spectacles, over which he peered in a most ludicrous manner, stepped up on the window seat, struck a gong, and the auction commenced. He spoke in his deepest, oratoriai tones, reeling yard after yard, so to speak, concerning the merits of each ga rment. “Here y’are, gents,” he roared, hold- ing up a pair, of trousers, ‘the best made