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

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Canal Currents, Bourne High School at me. His jaws were wide open and could easily have taken my head off in one bite. The large white man was faster than the panther; he sprang for Koro’s machete and met the animal in mid-air. Both, two deadly beasts while in combat, were sprawled upon the ground. The man quickly cut his ropes and, springing upon the panther’s back and putting his arms under the animal’s forelegs and over its neck, applied so much pressure that the seams of his shirt split. Finally, there was a sharp crack and the animal lay lifeless upon the ground with his neck broken. The white giant quickly arose and looked at my gun and then at me as if daring me to shoot him while he made his escape. He quickly sprang into the tree in ape-like fashion to the life he loved, while I had two dead panthers at my feet. George Handy, ’43 In Today ' s News — The stars began to fade into the hazy light of a new dream. Yet he still chipped at the block of marble. The room was a haze of smoke yet it didn’t seem to annoy either him or the other slovenly figure on the rumpled bed whose loud, loathesome snore alone broke the silence. Suddenly the artist jumped from his stool with a cry of desperate joy, spilling a cup of half- consumed coffee — Michael!” he cried and, rushing to the wash basin, filled a glass of water and dashed it on Michael’s” face: ' An odor of heavy drink clung about the awaking form. ' The name s Mike,” he said brokenly, falling back into a drunken stupor. Oh, you idiot — don’t you see? It’s finished” . . . So what?” Good heavens, man — ”, the artist tore at his hair and fell, from sheer exhaustion, onto the studio couch nearby. When he awoke it was again dawn. He had slept through that day and night. Uh-Yawn-Ahhh.” He rolled over suddenly, his eyes bulged. His sculp- ture — Where was it? — Mike? At that instant the door opened. Mike fell in, grinning stupidly — drunk again. Where did you get the money?” At the same time that he wondered that, he noticed that the sculpture was gone. (= News Item Dec. 16 — 7 A. M. — Early this morning a body was found mutilated al- most beyond recognition by a sculptor’s chisel. It was identified as the half-brother of Rene du Gastion, well-known sculptor genius who has not been seen since last week. Dec. 18 — Unidentified corpse found by fisherman at waterfront. Police believe it to be suicide. Janet Wheeler, ’42 Page Twenty -six

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Canal Currents, Bourne High School sitting here, it being the highest point in the rockies, and everything was still, awful in its stillness. Then, dad said, he saw the skies actually open up with their beauty. And the reds and golds and purples changed for one brief instant to form a picture — a beautiful one — of God and His kingdom. It was dad’s vision of Utopia — a place where everyone was happy — where everyone was on an equal basis with the other — where there were no individual countries, no classes, socially or financially. It was dad’s vision of what he wanted this country — our country — to be. It seemed to him that God had given everyone so much beauty to be thankful for, so much kindness and love that they ought to be happy. But they were not. They were taking too much beauty for granted. They were so controlled by hate and greed and pride that they were unable to see past those things into the beauty of the world.” Then he stopped talking. I guess all of a sudden he came down to earth and realized that he was talking to some of those same people. Those con- trolled by hate and greed and pride. And I think he was hurt, because he loved that story so. And I sort of feel that he felt he was somehow wronging that story, telling it to us. Phyllis Stockley, ’41 A Matter Of Life Or Death It was a bright July morning when Koro, my guide, and I left for the interior of the great South American jungle. As we paddled down stream, we noticed sleek, gray forms slide from the bank into the water. These croco- diles swam under and around the boat a few times and then let us pass un- molested. Farther down the river we were suddenly aware of a great splashing around the bend. A gigantic white man was astride a crocodile, plunging his knife again and again into the slimy beast. The crocodile finally gave in Then the giant white figure lifted the crocodile from the water onto the bank and began to skin the animal of its hide. We were watching him unnoticed, when a large, slippery python reached down from the trees and began to strangle him. Quick as a flash, I drew my rifle to my shoulder and took care- ful aim. After this had blown the reptile’s head off, we paddled to shore and untangled the large figure. While we bandaged his wounds he told us that he had escaped from Devil’s Island. After hearing his story, I felt that it was my duty to take him back to civilization for a fair trial. At first he protested against leaving the jungle, but then he promised to come because I had saved his life. Before taking him back we were going to get at least one black panther. After traveling for two days we came to the hills where the panthers abided. The prisoner told us stories of the panthers and wished to come with us, so we granted him that wish. Early the next morning we started out into the hills. Koro was on the trail of a panther; he sniffed the air and then the ground and beckoned us to follow. Ahead was a large black panther waiting to spring on us. As we rounded the bend, he sprang, but Koro drew his machete and slashed the animal to death in mid-air. It came down in a heap on top of Koro, knocking him unconscious. While tending to Koro’s wounds, 1 was aware of a whirring sound behind me and turned to see the mate of the dead panther, which was almost twice as large, spring from a tree straight Page TiL’e7tty-five

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Canal Currents, Bourne High School Wanted: A Good Spy Story It’s almost the end of November. I think it’s about time I started (Christmas shopping — I have so many gifts to buy,” I said to myself. Starting toward the business section of the city I got there in no time; but what to buy — I couldn’t think of a thing. Oh, dear! What shall I do? — Books! That’s it! A book always makes a nice gift.” With books on my mind I hastened into one of the largest department stores. Oh, there’s the book department. What a beautiful display? — Oh! — I wonder who that is?” I had caught sight of a young, tall, dark and handsome man. He had a . ' mall, dark mustache and was dressed in a gray, reversible coat. He walked over to the counter and said with a foreign accent: I beg your pardon, but have you the book ' Treasure Island’?” Why, yes, here it is,” replied a very attractive brunette sales girl with sparkling black eyes. Do you mind if I look through it for a minute?” Oh, no,” she answered, not at all. Go right ahead.” Now what does he want that book for?” I asked myself. Oh, for his little brother, probably. Of course, that’s it. How stupid of me. That’s prob- ably his Christmas present.” But then I saw him take a slip of paper out of his pocket. He looked at the paper, turned to a certain page in the book and then began mumbling to himself. I grew very curious. Finally, not being able to resist, I walked over to where he was standing. I could just barely make out that there were numbers on the paper and he was referring first to the paper, then to the book. I heard him mumble get plans — new bomber — ” and then he looked up. An expression of fear swept over his face just as if he had seen a ghost”. Realizing his carelessness, he quickly wrinkled the slip of paper, put it in his pocket and resumed reading the book Treasure Island”. Well, that was too much for me to bear. He’s a spy, that’s what he is,” I said to myself. I had read a story once of a spy who had a code and that code could never be deciphered until someone found a book that the spy had left by mistake and the code was then revealed. That was it. Oh, my goodness, I never came so close to a spy in my life! With that, I rushed out to call the policeman on the corner. I explained what had happened and led the policeman to the book department. The man was arrested and the note was seized. Then, with the help of Treasure Island,” it was revealed that he was to have stolen the plans of one of our latest bombers for his country. The policeman told me I would be rewarded and led the prisoner out of the store without further delay. Oh, I think I’ll buy something else for gifts instead of books,” I said. I’ve had enough of those for quite a while.” Carolyn Quattromini, ’42 Page Ttventy-seven