Astoria High School - Zephyrus Yearbook (Astoria, OR)

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THE {ZEPHYRUS 5 cloak-halls a number of Seniors’ chemis- try aprons were found, and the nineteen- ten class took them in hand for future use upon the roof. Then they began to climb the last and longest flight of stairs —those to the laboratory. On reaching the narrow hall at the top of the stnirs the door which led to the tower was discovered to be heavily padlocked. The “Amateur Lockbreaker’”’ here made him- ‘self prominent by forcing the three locks, and as the door flew open a half-dozen heads bobbed into the wide expanse of the attic. The fourth lad held the lan- tern aloft and surveyed the interior. At the same time the ‘‘Gypsy”’ glided to the top of the laboratory steps and gazed into the dim light below. Were her senses deceiving her, or did a “‘grate, grate’’ sound float up to her ears? Her fears grew when the leader directed “Greedy’’ and herself to guard at the top of the laboratory steps. The four flagraisers began to climb to the tower—and the noise which accom- panied them was enough to frighten the bravest of the brave. The guards below trembled. Above, as the noise increased, the dancing rays of the lantern shone down through a rather dingy skylight. The ‘‘Cypsy’s’”’ eyes were supposed to be watching the right side of the stairs; her companion’s, theleft. Overhead the noise grew in volume, and bits of conver- sation and laughter floated down to the guards’ ears, Suddenly there came a crash from above, followed by an excla- mation and ending in some suppressed giggles. Below, and at the same time, the hearts of the two guards beat faster with fear. Something was moving in the principal’s room. But who could be walking in the principal’s room when the door was locked? It meant but one thing— the principal himself! Louder grew the noise above. “Greedy’s”’ one thought was to run up and warn his classma tes, but he could not take his eyes from off the dreaded door. ‘The guards waited in fear, but the stirring apparently died away and they began to breathe more freely. Still unwelcome sounds came from above. The flagraisers were evidently engaged in a war dance up on the roof. Then the increase of the noise told the guards of their returning. Down the ladder— thump, thump, thump—came the ava- lanche. At the same time the noise burst forth from the principal’s room! With a bound the guards left their posts upon the stairs and gained the upper landing, just as the guilty four burst through the door. ‘The flagraisers’ tale died on their lips at a signal from the guard. ‘The sound in the principal’s room was just on the other side of the door now—one second and it would be opened! The members of the nineteen-ten class crouched breathless, and waited. (To Be Continued) more, The Spiced Rye Bread Hun ESTHER NYLAND ’09 Gottfrid sat looking at his bread and milk with a thoughtful face, which caused his mother to ask rather sharply the rea- son for this quietness. Much to her sur- prise he answered, “Thanksgiving Day.” Now this was an entirely new subject to Mrs. Jenson, who had come from Sweden not more than nine months since to make a living for her three children, Gottfrid, aged ten, being her oldest and also her assistant. In trying to explain the day to his mother, he asked, ‘Have we anything to be thankful for, ‘Moder’? Because the a

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4 their hiding-place into the open alley. The “Amateur Lockbreaker,” after a hasty address to his followers, advanced to the nearest window and gave it a lurch. One second passed, and the school was opened. ‘The window rolled up swiftly and quietly, and six anxious pairs of eyes peered into the questioning obseurity of the primary grade. ‘The steady ticking of a clock met their un- tain ears—all else was silent. The sextette were Sophomores from the school, and they figured revenge ogainst the Seniors. T'was Senior week —five days set apart in which the year’s graduates were allowed to be the only recognized class in the school. | But the Sophomores were revengeful, and they planned to raise their flag above the building and thus humiliate the wilful Seniors. The bundle which the “Cowgirl” possessed was the source of all the ex- citement—the flag. The nineteen-ten students had made their resolve: the flower of the Sophomore class took it upon themselves to act it out. Thus we understand the motive of the sextette as they stood together; peering, listening into the impenetrable gloom. After a hasty glance around in search of danger, the two brave, revengeful trios clambered through the open win- dow, and the perilous journey to the tower commenced. The bold intruders closed the sash be- hind them and then hesitated. Some- thing seemed to tell them that they would fail—fail to raise their honored flag of the gorgeous green and gold; fail to humiliate their enemies, the Seniors— but their spirit of adventure overcame their groundless fears and they tiptoed cautiously between rows of diminutive desks towards the hallway. The boards creaked and groaned beneath the touch of their lightly treading feet, making loud, uncanny noises echo and re-echo out into the empty corridor. On reaching the center of the hallway they made a careful search of their sur- roundings, and, on discovering that all THE ZEPHYRUS was safe, quietly made their way to the narrow flight of stairs which led thirty feet up to the first story. The masked troupe began to ascend the stairs. Creak! Creak! Echoes flew both above and below! The thundering noises of the gallant six hundred could not have been more terrifying. The fourth lad gave the signal; their footfalls ceased. From below and in the direction over which they had traveised came an unwelecme sound—that of ‘“‘creak, creak.”’? Even words were forgotten, and bravery flew to the winds. Five, ten, fifteen minutes elapsed before the housebreakers pro- ceeded on their way. The second and main hall was reached. Here the sextette paused and gazed into one another’s faces. The slanting moon- beams stealing through the hall windows on the floor above lit up the staircase and the part of the lower hall where the intruders were standing. For the last time they strained their hearing facilities to listen for sounds from below, but nothing greeted their anxious ears ex- cept the quartette of ticking clocks which seemed to be the only stirring articles on the second floor. The four dimly-lighted rooms were searched, and the depths of the darkened cloak-halls investigated. All was well—and the ascent to the upper floor started. In reaching the landing on the stairs they again hesitated. From below came a repetition of what they had heaid before—a long, audible creak! The Sophomores were right. Someone or something was following them. They fell on their knees and pressed their ears to the floor in an attitude of listening. The ticking of clocks both above and below was their only reward. The “Gypsy” settled affairs by remarking “It was one of the boards we creaked out of place creaking into place again.” The bold six climbed the remaining stairs and cautiously examined the High School floor. The principal’s room was locked, but the other three were open for inspection, In the depths of one of the

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THE ZEPHYRUS 6 lady at the school said if we had any- thing at home to be thankful for we should bring it to school and help those were poor to be happy.” Happy? Of course he had something to be happy for! Did he not have Moder, Greta and Ingrid? ‘‘Yacksam.” And was not every day of his life a tacksageke (thanksgiving) for health and all they were blessed with? ‘Oh, but, mamma, the teacher said ‘pump- kins or turkeys’!’ Pumpkins were strangers to her, and as for turkeys— why, they could not afford one for them- selves! The tears, though bravely kept back, glistened in his eyes when he said, ‘All the other boys are going to bring some- thing, and I want to be as thankful as they are.’’? ‘here was silence for several seconds after this declaration was made. Finally, Mrs. Jenson, disliking to cause her son any disappointment, said, as hopefully as she could, that all they had were some spiced rye bread buns. On the day before Thanksgiving, as he trudged to school with his rye bread bun under his armi, he seemed to realize that his ofer was not lke those the other boys gave; but his little heart was filled with pleasure and pride at the mere thought of giving. At the corner he met some of his schoolmates. What did he have? Why, he had one of mother’s rye bread buns. ‘ A rye bread bun!’ “Oh, listen, boys, he’s got arye bread bun!’ “You ain’t supposed to bring anything like that; we brought some raisins and dried pea- ches, and oh, a whole lot of good things!’ Gottfrid began to doubt if he should bring such an offering. How different his old playmates had been! His feet seemed to drag and the bun to grow so heavy! On entering the schoolroom he marched with a manly air to the table and placed his gift among the rest. The news hay- ing spread that Gottfrid had brought a rye bread bun, a crowd of small boys was gathered around the table to find out the truth of the statement. As the smiles on their faces changed to a laugh, which was caught up by the rest of the pupils, it was all he could do to keep the tears back. This certainly was not the happiness teacher had talked about, The bustle of this important day had subsided a little, when suddenly there was a general bustle, which not even the stern reproof of the teacher could quell. The committee who were to take charge of the offerings had come. After a few words by these great men, each one the idol of some small boy’s heart, the sceool was dismissed. The committee set to work at once to box up and address the things to be sent to different homes. All the pupils had left, with the exception of Gottfrid, who could not force himself to go any farther than into the hall, where he stood and sobbed. One of the committee, while passing through the hall, cameupon him. On being asked the cause and told that it was not manly to ery, Gottfrid said that he had brought a rye bread bun as an offering and now he was disgraced forever in the eyes of the boys—and that was enough to make anybody ery. His questioner was a retired ship- builder who had come from the same “Faderland” as had Gottfrid. and rye bread buns and little boys with flaxen hair brought back old memories. ‘‘And did you bring the little rye bread bun, my son? Then listen. Your offering has been increased a hundred-fold. I am taking the bun home to my wifeto cheer her with memories of the ‘Faderland,’ and your thank-offering to the poor this year will be three sacks of flour.’ Gottfrid went home with a heart full of Thanksgiving and joy. Had not the great man spoken to him in the beloved mother-tongue and told him what would cause true thankfulness and happiness throughout his Thanksgiving vacation? Kenneth Parker was squeezed in Miss H,’s room and he did not mind it a bit,