Arsenal Technical High School - Arsenal Cannon Yearbook (Indianapolis, IN)

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Elf 25it nf Qllap The first time I can remember of seeing the queer, pathetic little canti-air,, we cannot hope either to disable or bluff an enemy His clothes flapped in the gale like the torn sail on a wrecked ship's mast, and with just that suggestion of desolation. He was as inani- mate as a dead leaf blown toward me by a mischievous gust. Even his eyes wore the set, weary expression of an old, ill-treated work- horse, who plods on and on, stumbling a little, beaten perhaps, ever bearing a burden too heavy for him. He always carried a great limp bag on his back. I had often wondered what was in it. I liked to fancy that little old man, whose shoulders must be so tired, and whose heart must be so weary of plodding, plodding, carried his sorrows in that bag. He spoke to no one. He seemed to see nothing. Lilacs bloomedg the little old man with the heavy bag could not see them. If he had whistled, or spoken, that wierd, unnatural air about him would have vanished -but he was always silent-always mute, always appealing. and always starting, as it seemed to me, on a unending journey, with his pack. I could fancy, too, that he knew there was no turning of his road, but was so helpless, so resigned to his tragedy that he never questioned. ' One morning I turned the corner where I always met him, but no plodding figure slumped dejectedly past me. HPerhaps he has reached the end of his journey,', I told myself. And I felt a queer sort of loneliness creep over me, for the little figure had been the embodiment of my own sadden moods. But somehow, I could never think of him without his burden, I suppose now he is still plodding along to-somewhere, his eyes fixed on the ground, and his unwieldy bag across his curved shoulders-plodding, plodding- through eternity. 000000 flln Elilar ffliime fWith apologies to Alfred Noyes.J Come out to Tech in lilac-time, in lilac-time, in lilac-time, Come out to Tech in lilac-time, It isnit far from heaven. And there you'll wander, books in hand, With oy, in summer's wonder-land. Come out to Tech in lilac-time, It isn't far from heaven.

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........................ ......... While I finished dressing he said: alt is not far-just across the street.'7 Then he was tae man who lived in the house of mystery, evidently -and I was to learn its secret-I told him that I was surprised. 6'Quite naturaif he replied. uNobody ever knows it. Since my wife was first taken ill it was necessary tnat I find an absolutely quiet place. I will tell you,-she is insane. She imagines she is dead. Perhaps a good many of us are dead and do not know it. I did not have the heart to send her to an asylum, so I built this house, where I have nursed her myself. I am with her as much as possible, but often she wants to be alone, so I have a flat in the city too. This time, however, I am afraid that she is really dead? I listened to his explanation without a word. It was indeed a strange story my visitor was telling me. Several times I wondered if I were not dreaming. He drew me across the street and pulled the bell cord. There was a single stroke and the door opened itself. 'GThis is a little invention of mine,'7 he said. 4'The door is con- nected with a mechanism which informs my wife that I am coming so that she does not have to get upf' Q uVery ingeniousfj I said, but I felt rather uneasy. We went through the hall, across the garden, entered another house behind, walked through a dimly lit corridor, and up a flight of stairs. MI love my wife dearlyf, mused my patron, Hand I did not want anybody to know that she was sick. But now I feel that the end has come and she is deadfi He stopped me in a large vestibule illuminated by many wax candles. A heavy odor of incense, wax, and dust filled the air. I will go and find her now. Perhaps she has come back to con- sciousness. She is very sensitive, and the sight of a stranger might do her harm.'7 I waited a little and then he came back greatly disturbed. uShe is still unconscious or worse,'7 he said. uCome in, please? We passed through another corridor, then he threw aside a heavy curtain. A strange sight met my eyes. I looked into a chapel which had a domed ceiling tinted in dark blue, lustrous gold stars reflecting the rays of a hundred candles. At the back was a kind of a vault, in which was a cofiin containing a motionless figure of a woman. I stood spell bound. WI'hat is she, he said. UFor years she has insisted on sleeping in her coflinf, t fContinued on Page 485

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..... ..... 6111919 iipuukp walk By Margaret Robertson Such a night I can never forget. The wind blew at a terrific gait, bending the branches of the trees almost to the ground, and sending things flying through the air. But a star shone in the sky: the moon had disappeared, the earth seemed to have been turned into a darkened land where witches and hosts of weird figures might dance in glee. I stumbled along in the dark,-hardly daring to breathe. The howling wind made cold chills run up and down my spine. Would I never get home! Ten more blocks! At twelve oiclock on such a ghost-like night! I quickened my steps but my legs refused to keep it up. I soon was worn out and nearly dragged along in the dark, with the constant expectation of seeing some superhuman figure swoop down from a tree to carry me off into the land of spooks. lVIy heart thumped harder and harder as I neared the Arsenal Grounds. At that time I received a rap on the head and quaking with fear I looked up, expecting to see a ghost or some other un- canny creatureg but it was only a bough bending low. The fe-nee loomed up like a row of giants, I could picture myself being rashly torn to pieces by some demon of the lower world, or being lifted up in a whirl wind, as a gust of wind swept up behind me and nearly carried me off my feet, and left me in such a frightened state that I felt my heart thumping like sixty. Nine more squares! Oh! would I never get home? What was that noise? Someone coming behind me? Shaking with fear I turned around only to find that it was a branch swaying in the wind. Nearer and nearer I came to the Arsenal Gate. My knees shook so, that I could hardly walk, then I tried to think of all the brave men fighting in France, and it seemed to strengthen me a little. Thump! Ouch! I suddenly found myself in a forlorn heap on the brick walk. Who tripped me? I looked aroundg did I see someone peeking at me from behind that tree? Yes! it was,-well, whatever it was, I scrambled to my feet and started to run. I hardly dared to look behind me, but finally I gathered enough courage to turn around, nothing was coming except a furious gust of wind. Oh! I-Iorrors! There went my hat sailing through the air! And I was at the Arsenal Gate. Should I go in there after my hat? Yes, it was the only one I had and pay-day a week off! Creak! Creak! lVIy whole body shook as I noiselessly went in search of my hat. Behind the clump of bushes seemed to come the wavering sound of