Ashtabula High School - Dart Yearbook (Ashtabula, OH)

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THE DART In a youth of Dick Prescott’s calibre, that was bound to be the outcome. After chapel, the next morning, Dick Prescott was summoned to report to Dr. Madison’s office. It was a bright day, the sun shone brilliantly, while the cool spring breeze glided softly thru the tops of the trees, which shaded the campus, swaying them to and fro in rhythmic motion. But Dick’s pale, gaunt and haggard countenance was by no means in keeping with nature at this particular time. It rather denoted that this worthy individual had enjoyed no repose or slumber that night; in fact, it indicated that he had indulged in profound meditation, much after the fashion of a solitary monk in a lonely glen. Indeed, he had considered many schemes whereby he planned to travel far away where he would be a total stranger, or he would go to Europe and end it all on the German frontier. He would attempt anything, but never would he have the temerity to face the professor. Thanks to the prearranged engagement to see Dr. Madison the next morning, none of these plans had been carried into effect. As Dick entered the doctor’s office, the latter stood up, and, with a bow, asked him to be seated. “To get right down to the point, Mr. Prescott, have you made any plans as to the work you will take up on leaving school ?” Dick was bewildered, to say the least- This was not the subject he was prepared to discuss with the Doctor. (Why as he remembered it, he was to tell in detail of the mysterious plans he had found in Professor Shoultz’ desk.) Hadn’t the doctor remarked that he would have the professor watched untill enough evidence had been obtained to convict him? “Why don’t you speak, my boy, you’re not ill are you?” asked the doctor. Dick, however, was not disposed to tell of his latest plans. “No, sir, I have no definite idea at present.” “Mr. Shoultz informs me you are taking up consular service. Are you interested in that work?” Dick started at the name but managed to say, “Yes, sir. I am very much interested in it.” The doctor now arose, opened a letter file and pulling out a letter bearing the stamp of the American consul at Buenos Ayres, he handed it to Dick. “Would such a position appeal to you. Mr. Prescott?” “Why, why I don’t understand,” he stammered. “I’ll make it plain.” said the doctor, smiling. “You’ve noticed the reference made to patriotism in the letter?” Dick nodded. “Well, I’m glad to say you’ve passed the true patriotism test, my boy. As to the other qualifications, I do not believe you are wanting. The professor is no more a German spy than I am-It was a bogus test.” Had a bomb exploded at Dick’s feet, he would not have been more shocked. “I’ll admit it was rather severe,” continued the Doctor, “but I knew you would not fail.” A merry group was seated in the Shoultz’ parlor that evening. Dick Prescott was the object of the merriment, but he also seemed to enjoy the fun immensely. He had accepted the position and had planned to leave shortly for his new post. “And to think,” said Phyllis, “that you, dad. would agree to such a plan?” “I simply had to,” was the rejoinder. “The Doctor insisted and would not have it any other way.” 28

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THE DART Dick could scarcely believe his eyes. Me took the papers out of the drawer, but as he did so, a small yellow slip of paper fell to the floor. This he at once picked up and. sure enough, there was a cipher message on it which read as follows: Your Excellency: These are preliminary sketches. As soon as I obtain more definite information. which I have every reason to believe is forthcoming in a few days, 1 will forward same to you at once. You may rely upon me. P. A. S. Dick was fairly amazed- Could it be possible? Who could ever conceive that Professor Shoultz, a man of unquestionable honor and integrity, an ardent advocate of preparedness, a teacher who devoted entire recitation periods to talks on patriotism and the sterling worth of that quality, a patriot who declared the U. S. infallible in its undertakings, because of its true democracy, could be a German spy? Still the proof was there, and ample proof. Moreover, was not Mr. Shoultz of German ancestry? Was it not probable that he was attempting to conceal his real motives by playing the role of a true citizen? Why, just that afternoon Phyllis had remarked that her father had been attending various meetings of late; meetings of secret agents of the Kaiser, perhaps. While these thoughts flashed thru Dick's troubled mind, he stood motionless under the streaming light, staring at the papers before him. An intruder at that moment would have adjudged him insane from the expression of mental agony which marked his countenance. Suddenly he looked up. his face flushing red. “No, no,” he murmured, “it cannot be. The professor is too noble, too honest, too sincere to be guilty of double-dealing.” He rebuked himself for entertaining such opinions of one who had done him nothing but kindness, one whose advice and coaching had not only made a university education a possibility for him but had also enabled him to make a name for himself there. And, besides, how could he so soon forget his devotion to Phyllis and her kindness to him? So came the appeal from his heart. But as he glanced at the papers again, he thought of the possible destruction and disaster which might result should they come into the possession of the enemy. They would prove a veritable menace to his country to which he was duly bound by the strongest bonds of patriotism- And what might not be the ultimate result were such a shrewd man as the professor, allowed to play freely on unsuspecting American officials and men of affairs in whose care the safety of the nation was entrusted? FI is duty as an American was to report his finding to the proper authorities, regardless of how the consequences might bear on his private affairs. So ran the dictates of his conscience. Rut there was no time to spare. Dr. Madison would now be waiting. The dead quiet of the room was broken only by the rhythmic ticking of the clock on the wall. The train would be due in a short time. His heart beat fast. Could he not let the matter drop for the present, speak to the professor personally and induce him to give up his daring plans? A slight pause. No, no, that would never do. More intrigue and plotting would be the outcome. There was only one way out. It was inevitable. He must inform Dr. Madison of his discovery. And so the battle royal which had been fiercely waged between his heart and his conscience culminated in a victory for the latter. 27

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THE DART THE TRANSFORMATION HAROLD JOHNSON. 17 “Yes,” continued Vandall, “as usual, our victory was complete, but this time it was more so. We gradually raised the prices on all the foodstuffs under our control until our profits were well over seventy per cent. People must eat, so they couldn’t resist the higher prices; and, furthermore, it wouldn’t have done them much good to resist, for we are the most powerful trust in the field and we would have forced them to terms in the end. There is some talk of a government investigation, but we have arranged it so that nothing annoying will happen. 1 tell you. I’m proud to control such a powerful body of great men.” Mrs. Vandall thoughtfully surveyed the smiling features of her husband. It was not often that Alton Vandall smiled, and, even in the fairness of her mind, Mrs- Vandall could not admit that her husband’s stern and greed-marked face was improved by the lurking contortion which intensified his harsh features. “Alton,” she said, “I don’t know much about the affairs of finance, and I’m not acquainted with the codes or rules by which you men are governed; but I do know that in gaining a few million dollars you have caused untold suffering among the poor. Perhaps 1 should be proud and rejoice in what you call a victory, but I can not find it in my heart to do so. I don’t want to throw cold water on your triumph, but read this paper and you will see what I mean.” With a muttered curse the husband, now scowling instead of smiling. glanced at New York’s leading daily paper and read as follows: “Poor suffer on account of greed of money kings. Alton Vandall and his trust raise prices on food. Food riots in city. Government investigation impending.” A column and a half was devoted to this topic and Vandall was denounced in such terms that he gurgled and choked with rage as he read. Accompanying the article was a cartoon vividedly showing the misery and wretchedness which existed among those who were not able to buy the food which was now so expensive that it was far beyond their frugal means. Vandall angrily tore the paper into a hundred pieces and cast it into the open fireplace. “Fools!” he cried, “They’re all fools and jealous dogs. If we had let them in on the deal they would now be hailing us as great kings of finance, but just because I, with a few trusty lieutenants, chose to fight and win my own battle, they condemn me and bring in that time-worn joke about abusing the poor. Bosh! They just imagine that the people can’t buy food. They’re too stingy; that’s all. Abusing the downtrodden! Rot! Those newspaper men have to make a living in some way or other, so they work on the sympathy of the people at large and paint a sad picture of something that never happened. Well, I’ve won out and no one has suffered at my hands, so let them rave.” So saying, the angry Vandall hastily left the room and departed for his club on Broadway. 29