Bourne High School - Canal Currents Yearbook (Bourne, MA)

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CANAL CURRENTS, BOURNE HIGH SCHOOL cular enclosure I stumbled over a pile of hard objects which rolled and clicked and rattled under my feet. I reached down and picked up a large round ob- ject, very smooth and with two perfectly round holes in it. I dropped it quickly and fled across the room, crouching against the far wall. A draft of air hit my head. Where there is air, I thought, there must be a opening. Sure enough, a lit- tle above my head was a win- dow with rusty bars set in it. I reached up and grasped one of the ancient bars. It weakened as I pulled on it and my hopes rose a few notches. Suddenly from the ceiling of the cell came the harsh chuckle of the old man and a dark, winged object of considerable size dropped upon me, and I caught a strange musky odor as it flapped about my cell. Even in the darkness I could tell what it was. I gasped in horror and cruched low to avoid the filthy thing. The thought of the auto- matic pistol which I always car- ry in my hip pocket came to me suddenly. I groped wildly for it, and breathed a sigh of relief when I felt it, cold and hard, in my grip. The horrid creature in my cell flapped toward me and I in panic, emptied the contents of my pistol into the filthy bird. It staggered at my first shot, and as the rest tore through it, it collapsed and fell heavily to the floor. I wiped the perspiration from my brow and pocketed the useless gun. I was able, after a fashion, to wrench the old cor- roded bars from the window and haul myself through. I found myself in another cir- cular room but this one had an opening in the high ceiling and iron rungs set in the stone wall leading up to it. I climbed rap- idly up the rungs and as I reached the top and looked over, I came face to face with my host who screamed and kicked me in the face? I felt myself falling back- wards through space, falling — falling — there came a ringing as of many bells, in my ears. I hit the floor with a terrific smash! The ringing grew loud- er. Funny — I felt no pain from the long fall. I tried to move but I couldn’t. It felt as though someone was holding my arms close to my sides. The ringing noise stopped suddenly. I opened my eyes. The sunlight was streaming in my bedroom window and I was lying on the floor with my bed clothes wound tightly around me! Suddenly there was the loud ringing noise again, I untangled myself from the bed clothes, picked up the telephone on my bedroom table, and lifted the receiver. “Hello?” “Hi, Jim,” came the answer over the wire, “where are you, anyway? Aren’t you going deer hunting with us this afternoon?” “No!” I shouted. “I’m sick.” I slammed down the receiver and turned toward my bed. My eyes fell upon a copy of a book entitled “Medieval Horrors”. I threw the book out of the win- dow, dove back into bed, and pulled the covers tightly over my head. Fred Hebditch, ’39. Page Twenty-Three

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CANAL CURRENTS, BOURNE HIGH SCHOOL result of an accident in the Civil War. That is one reason why I live out here by myself. I am tired of scaring everyone I meet.” I felt a bit reassured by this direct speech and stepped through the open doorway. “I became lost to-day while hunting,” I explained, “and when I discovered this place of yours I stopped to see if per- haps I could find food and rest for the night. I’m willing to pay for it.” I exhibited a roll of bills, but his eyes were on me rather than on the bills. “To be sure, to be sure,” he murmured, “you may have food and-er-rest here if you wish. I am not interested in the money, though. I shall-er-entertain you free of charge.” He chuckled horribly, and ushered me into the room from which I had seen the light outside. It appeared to be a sort of general living room and kitchen with a big stove on one side of the room, a table in the center, a lounge on the further side of the room and a few upholstered chairs. “Take a seat and rest while I cook you a nice juicy steak with some fried spuds, and coffee,” said he, bustling about on the other side of the dim room. I leaned my deer rifle in a cor- ner and sank into one of the easy chairs to rest while the tantalizing odor of cooking steak filled the room. I must have dozed off, for, in no time it seemed, the old fellow roused me by shaking my shoulder. I opened my eyes and looked at him. “Your steak is ready,” said he. “Eat now.” The food was delicious, and when I had cleared up the last juicy morsel he beckoned and said, “Come, now. I’ll take you to your room.” His natural behavior and the good food had won my confi- dence in him, I left my rifle and hunting knife in the room which we had just left, and followed him down the dark hallway. I could see him dimly ahead of me and could hear him shuffling along the stone floor with that peculiar gait of his. He stopped before a flight of stone stairs go- ing up into the blackness above and said, “Wait here while I find a light.” He shuffled off in the darkness and left me standing there. The shuffling stopped suddenly and I heard him chuckle very hide- ously. “Ah! Here we are,” he rasped. I heard a click from his direc- tion as though he had thrown a switch. There came a rumbling sound, the floor beneath me gave way, and I was sent skimming downward through space! I crashed to the stone floor below and lay on my back a few min- utes gathering my wits. Pres- ently I was aware of a glow of light from the aperture through which I had fallen, and then the oldish man thrust his head over the edge and cackled in his hideous fashion, “Pleasant, pleasant dreams. I will give you a companion to play with in a few minutes.” The hole above my head slow- ly closed leaving me in the gloom of my dungeon-like room. I got to my feet and walked forward till I touched the stone wall. Then I commenced to fol- low it, feeling with my hands as I went. Halfway around the cir- Page Twenty -Two

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CANAL CURRENTS, BOURNE HIGH SCHOOL “A Tribute To “Mother” — doesn’t that word mean a variety of things to you? Noble, Loving, Helpful, Kind, Joyous, Charming, Adorable, Grand and “Bestest” are only a few words that “Mother” con- tains. Does your Mother mean as much to you as my Mother does to me? There is a poem that I saw embroidered on a pillow that is the only thing that describes what I think of my Mother. “M is for the million things she gave me. My Mother ' ' O means only that she’s growing old. T is for the tears she shed to save me; H is for her heart of purest gold. E is for her eyes with love- light shining, R is right and right she’ll always be. Put them all together; they spell Mother — The word that means the world to me!” Virginia Mason, ’40. Ancient And Modern Warfare Now that war has us kneeling down to it again, let’s talk over the ancient warfare and the modern warfare. Remember way back in the days of Caesar when the phal- anx was considered the best way of forming men into battle lines? Those men carried only bows and arrows, spears, slings, and shields. Men stood right oppo- site each other when they fought. Less men were killed in those days. Offiecrs went right into the battle with the men to lead them and to encourage them. When attacking towns they used battering rams and mechanical devices that threw heavy rocks at the walls or at the soldiers inside. Scaling lad- ders were used to scale walls, and movable towers were used for the same purpose. Those were the days when war was not so horrible as it is now. War in modern times is all horror. Poison gases kill sol- diers in the most horrible man- ner known. Big guns shoot pro- jectiles more than twelve miles, although every time one of those guns are shot it costs thousands of dollars. Tanks are used to lay destruction wherever they go, and fire is shot from some of the tanks of today to make sure of their destructive work. Air- planes are used to bomb cities and important army camps. Ships are used to protect the countries by sea. Submarines and mines are used to sink bat- tleships and destroyers. Man considers these implements of warfare great feats in the world of science, but to the common soldier they make war more hor- rible than ever. War is something that can never be averted. The imple- ments of warfare become more and more destructive and hor- rible as the wars come and go. Harlow Ellis, ’40. Page Twenty-Four