Brattleboro Union High School - Colonel Yearbook (Brattleboro, VT)

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don. Finally the eyes of the prostrate one opened and in them there gleamed intelli- gence. The other grinned and his eyes were not free from moisture. It's all right, bo, the 'Doc' says you'll pull through. Brandon looked far away. What's the date? Heskwith calculated. By George, it's the twenty-fifth o' De- cember! Brandon closed his eyes and smiled faintly, his mind on faraway things. Just what I wanted old man. Thanks, much. A -L. W. SEXTON, '26, FAITH The cheery scenes that passed through the lone traveler's mind as he trudged along the snow-covered trail presented a great contrast to the scenes around him. Eddies of snow swirled and danced about, each new rush giving him a heavier coat of powdered snow. The voice of the Northland King, in his exquisite palace of ice, was heard in the furious, chilling blasts of the wind. As Hoyt Alden struggled through the fury of a New England blizzard, he thought of his snug cabin nestling in its bower of giant northern pines and midget spruce trees. A table, hewn from an oak by him the previous summer, would be covered with a brightly dyed, homespun cloth, the work of Ellen's industrious fingers. Instead of the usual pewter plates and cups, Ellen would undoubtedly use the best dishes- heavy chinaware with the stamp Ye Olde Dishe Co., Yorkshire, England. The knives and forks would be scoured to their orig- inal brightness with sand collected from the brook-bed last fall. Alden could almost smell the fragrant, delicious, snowy-white biscuits made from their precious little hoard of wheat fiour brought over in the last boat from Eng- land. Potatoes, roasted amid the ashes in the great stone fireplace, would repose in state on their heavy wooden platter. Toasted corn-bread to be spread with wild crabapple jelly and flavored with quince. Of course there would be the usual veni- son and bear-steak, but to celebrate Saint Nicholas' pending visit, a huge roasted tur- key prepared in a way of which Ellen was master. The delicious, appetizing odors seemed to be borne on the wind to Alden's nostrils. This was too much for his poor hungry stomach and it groaned in protest. The curtain of snow was brushed aside several times. With a start, Hoyt realized that he was within a few rods of the cabin. ' Queer, thought he, that there is hard- ly any light within. Ellen must be ill. He became alarmed when his mittened hand touched the slightly opened door. The ial Entering cautiously he closed the door and put thc bar into place. Placing his back against the heavy oaken door he surveyed the one room with amazement and dismay. Some of Ellen's prized china cups lay on the floor in pieces, the crudely made stools and chairs were over-turned and Tinker, the dog, lay dead against the opposite wall, his blood still flowing slowly from a great ragged cut in his side. Alden groaned in anger and sorrow as he saw that the head of the well-loved household pet had been crushed by a blow from some blunt in- strument. Tinker had evidently been faith- ful to the end. Hoyt suddenly became aware that the fire was almost out. Crossing to the fire- place he took shavings and bits of wood and placed them on the fast-greying em- bers. Kneeling, he feverishly fanned the smouldering heap with his big, wide- brimmed conical hat. Once the tiny blaze almost died, but by careful nursing the fiame gave place to two, and the second to a third, until finally a great fire was roaring in the fireplace. Lighting a candle, he took off his knitted muffler and cloak and placed them over a chair before the fireplace to dry. Bewildered, he sat down on a stool. Clasping his head in his hands he tried to collect his scattered thoughts. Raising his head again after a few moments of haunt- ing silence, broken only by the crackling iiames and the scratchy, gritty sound of the snow as it was hurled against the oiled paper which was used in the window in- stead of glass, Hoyt looked again thought- fully about the disordered room. The dried ears of red and yellow corn still hung down from the rafters, Ellen's precious Windsor desk in the corner was open, the papers and the quill pen lay scattered over the top. The stools and chairs, so painstakingly made last sum- mer out of oak and cedar lay upside down on the floor. Suddenly sniffing the air a noticeably scorchy odor prodded Alden and aroused him from his daze. Unable to think of the cause or place of this odor he rose from the stool and turned slowly around, snifiing the air. As he turned once more to the fireplace, he noticed that the warming pan was not in its usual place near the bellows. Quick- ly it dawned on him that Ellen must have put coals in the pan and placed it between the sheets to warm the bed before the now prevailing disorder had been brought about. Running to a bed in one corner he threw back the quilts and pulled out the missing warming pan from the scorched sheets and returned it to its place. Deciding that there must be some clue to the mystery, he dropped on his hands and knees and began searching among the broken crockery. ,His eyes suddenly bright- ened with excitement and expectation as 3 he pulled out 'the hilt of a bowie knife. Only a little of the blade remained, and the hilt was covered with blood. Was it Ellen's innocent blood? Ellen, his sweet young wife of only a year, this very Christmas Eve? No, no! God forbid! Tearfully, shudderingly, he thrust the hate- ful 'thing away from him, then took it into his hands again, realizing that it was his only clue. Turning the hilt over again he perceived I, Lackland faintly carved in the wood. Dropping it as though it were a hot coal, he stared down at the object with agonized eyes. Lackland, the rene- gade and outlaw, the brute of the country- side, had carried Ellen offg whether or not she was dead, he could not guess. Hot, stinging, blinding tears came to his eyes and he lurched to the table for sup- port. Mute with grief and anxiety he could only move his head in protest at this over- whelming catastrophe. Realizing that this was not getting him anywhere he donned his heavy cloak, jammed his hat down on his head, wound his long mufiier around his neck several times, put on his heavy Woolen mittens and rushed out into the storm once more. Current rumors said that Lackland's hide-out was in the cave on White Horse Ledge across the river by,the same name. Half crazed with forebodings Alden struck out in the direction of White Horse River with no idea of what he would do when he arrived at his destination. Ioyously the wind caressed its new vic- tim with cold wintry blasts and threw the blinding snow into Alden's eyes. Trees creaked and groaned as they were forced down by the ruling king. Branches were snapped from trees like tooth picks and hurled down about the poor unprotected man. The way became more and more dithcult, making it necessary for Alden to grope his way through the forest. Suddenly a cruel blow on the head tumbled him onto a group of jagged rocks, not wholly covered by a soft cushion of snow. A muffled voice called Are you badly hurt? but Alden had lost his power of speech. - Awaking hours later, Alden stared in amazement around the room of his own cabin. The room was clean and everything, as far as he could see, was in its place-the fire bellows on the hearth and the warming pan beside it. The rude table was set for three. Odors of roasting fowl, potatoes and stew simmering in the huge pot in the fireplace drifted to his nose. Feeling someone's eyes upon him-he sat up to encounter the eyes of a stranger, dressed in trapper's clothing-fringed deer- suit, leggings and moccasins bound thongs. Straight as the straightest he stood, looking into Alden's puz- skin with pine, zled face with honest blue eyes-the kind that are always smiling.

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Q Ghz tal f ,- I1 1 at ' . T F ! v A o MISS NELLIE'S LAST CHRISTMAS It was still quietly snowing, and all the world looked like a soft downy bed. Huge icicles hung from the eaves of the large colonial house on the hill, Inside in the spacious living-room, decorated with ever- greens and holly, hung a branch of mistle- toe, so common in England, and in the high-back chair by the Fireside sat a pretty young maiden of twenty. A jingle of approaching sleigh bells caused Nellie to start suddenly out of' her reverie, and to gaze expectantly out of the window. A knock at the door summoned Waters, the butler, a faint smile on his usually impassive countenance. A Merry Christmas to you, sir, he said politely, as he took off the gentleman's coat. Miss Nellie P inquired the jubilant young man, as he thought of a certain small box in his pocket. Yes sir, in the living-room, sir. Lieutenant Alldouse laughed boyishly, Fine weather out, Waters. He always said that, whether it was raining, snowing or clear. The hours passed quickly, and almost before anyone realized it, the guests of the evening had begun to arrive. What ia joy- ful time they had! Finally the gallant lieutenant caught Nellie under the mistle- toe, as she, for the moment unwary, had re-entered the room, pausing to survey the scene. A deep scowl rested on the brow of Colonel Carvel, for he, too, had been watching for such a chance. He had been drinking excessively, and was in no cheer- ful state of mind. Half an hour later when Nellieys father announced the engagement of his daughter to Alldouse, and that the wedding would soon take place, Carvel, with an ugly leer, arose, and with a curse strode across the room. Well, I'll have you understand that if Miss Nellie marries at all it'll be me! he roared, and with that he slapped the young lieutenant across the cheek, and de- parted. The party, so merry a few minutes before, stood speechless, white and tremb- ling, for Carvel was the best swordsman in all that county. Then the cool, steady voice of the lieutenant rang out, Who will be my second ? At dawn the next day four men stood in the keen, cold wind, two facing each other, and the others inhdeep conversation. Alldouse, his second said, are you willing to give Nellie over to the Colonel without fighting ? Never at any time will I give her to him, Alldouse replied grimly. She's mine l Thus commenced the hardest battle that Carvel had ever fought. The blades Hashed and grated time and again. Alldouse was getting the upper hand! Then suddenly, Carvel, with a lightning thrust of his sword, pierced his antagonist's defense, and two minutes later Alldouse lay prone and inert on the snow, stained with his life's blood. Sweet Miss Nellie followed her lover just eleven months later, but there was many a poor soul, who blessed her name for the sunshine she had brought to those around her during her own terrible sorrow. Carvel, the mighty, lived lonely and re- pentant for fifty long years, and at eighty- two on his death bed he muttered, Take her, Alldouse. She's yours l -MARY STOLTE, '27 SPIRIT OF THE NORTH Brandon drove a last blow into the base of the swaying spruce and stepped back quickly. just at that instant a mist of blown snow from the teetering tree blurred his vision and his ankle turned beneath his weight. As if in deadly coordination the falling tree slithered against a fellow and the butt shot viciously back, hurling the man backwards into the snow. Heskwith, -at the sled, heard the choked cry which came from the stricken man and hurried to his side. With tender hands he felt the sagged body. A touch on the chest and the wounded one's eyes opened with a flash of horror. Got your ribs, eh, boy? A faint hissing assent. 'Something in- sidge, too. Good--Lord! Don't touch- again l ' The other pursed his lips, and his brow wrinkled. You can't stay here, you'd freeze in ten minutes. I'll have to move you. He slipped an arm in under the other's shoulders, hesitated ia second at the con, tortion of Brandon's features, and with all possible care, glided with watchful steps to the half-made camp, gently de- positing his burden on the soft robes of the sled. He bent close to Brandon's face. The man was unconscious, barely breathing, and exhaling with the tiniest of gasps. Heskwith carefully tucked the heavy furs about his patient and rose, ruminatively muttering. Hell! Poor chap. Let's see-Doc Riv- ers is at Wolverine. That's sixty miles. I can't make more'n twenty a day at best- this way. He picked up the snake clog-whip. I-Ieyl Tusca, quit that! The lash curled around a dog's torso. VVe won't have any har- ness left, curse your evil hide, and we've got to get to Wolverine. With rapid, skilled movements he made a camp under the twilight of the north- ern sky. He fed the dogs, towering over them with the swift justice of the heavy whip. He gorged the fire till it roared its red Hame against the weirdness of the Aurora Borealis and drew a flush to the deathly face of Brandon as he lay helpless. It caused him to open his eyes and fix them in question upon Heskwith, who was busying himself with the preparation of the evening meal. Heskwith caught the mute gaze and grinned sympathetically. , Kind of hard, old man, eh? But 'Doc' will bring you around all right. Don't try to move. Want the furs shifted? So ho- o-o! boy! Have some tea in a minute. Everything all right F The other nodded faintly and the eye- lids drooped. Heskwith returned to the Ere and sal- vaged a capsized frying-pan at which he muttered words of profane nature. A wolf moaned ix1 the distance and the huskies lifted their noses at the stars, wail- ing in chorusing response. The man at the fire raised his head and listened to the sounds rand the tea was nearly lost because of his listening. A dog snarled at the edge of the fire-light and the listener shook him- self and replenished the blaze, till the twin dots of light about him retreated into the darkness. -1- 4: 14: at -4- sf -it -r if as The Aurora licked far into the zenith with trailing, wavering streamers of elec- tric colors..A slumberer slept peacefully by a pit of red glimmering coals and an- other lay on a sled. A lone dog wooed the wavering stars and the great wolves bayed not far distant. The silence kept watch. 4: 4: -of 14- sf 4: -4- 4: -r wk -it Early in the morning Heskwith arose and packed the sled. Brandon, half-con- seious of his partner's labors, lay without movement. Cheerfully, without grumble or lament, the well man ministered to the in- jured one, and the relation welded them together as only strong men who are friends are welded one to another. When at last Heskwith mushed his team to the south, there came not a sound, not a thought of discontent or lament from the one on the sled, though agonizing must have been the twitches and jolts of the uneven trail. So they went, this pair, into the south, slowly, for the wounded Brandon could not have lived through a day of fast mush- ing, and steadily, in the strong hope that they would find the one who could relieve the suffering. Three days later Heskwith stood in the cabin of Doe Rivers watching and listen- ing to the delirious wanderings of Bran-

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41 Alden nearly tumbled out of bed when the stranger said, l'How's the head this morning? Guess I brought you home be- fore you had a chance to lose much blood. VVondering who I am? I'm Jerry Lack- land. At these words Alden choked with rage. Stumbling out of bed, his sore head whirl- ing, he leapt at the stranger's throat. Be- fore the stranger had a chance to remon- strate, the door opened and Ellen stood on the threshold. A sweet, alluring picture she made in her heavy cloak slightly open exposing the neat gray dress with its soft, snowy kerchief caressing the wearer's neck and throat. Her fluffy hair, IHOFC golden than any sun, peeped out from under the little white winged cap, in intriguing curls. The red winter berries that she held clasped in her arms lost some of their brightness in their position under her glowing cheeks and sparkling, smiling eyes. Without removing the heavy leggi11gS and mittens, only pausing to latch the door and to drop the berries on the table she ran across the room to her very much astonished, and bewildered husband. Ellen, Ellen, where have you been? Did that terrible brute, Lackland, harm you? Anxiously, he looked at the most precious girl in his world. Gently stroking his hair she replied, Why, no, Hoyt-what makes you ask? 'fWhy! Why Ellen, I thought you were dead! he murmured dazedly. Hoyt Alden! What is the matter with you? Briefly Alden described his home-coming of the previous night. Ellen listened in amazement. Why, she cried, that must have happened after I left. When I returned from Mrs. Mit- chell's house this morning, everything was in order. Mr. Lackland didn't say anything to me about it. Poor Tinker, I wonder who killed him? Even though Mrs. Mitchell was very ill, I wish that I had not gone. Tinker wouldn't have been killed and you wouldn't have been hurt. That man standing right near you killed your pet, shouted Hoyt. Yet Hoyt himself found it hard to believe that this honest, clear-eyed man was guilty of such conduct. Before you condemn me, hear what I have to tell you, said Jerry Lackland. Grudgingly, Alden listened to the man and gradually believed what he had to say. The stranger told of his search for his miscreant brother, John, in New England. john had always been selfish, and arrogant with a terrible, unreasoning anger, which at last became the cause of his murdering a fellow club member, and they forced him to leave England, He had fied to the new country across the ocean-America. He at first lived in Virginia, but his escapades drove him farther north until he came to the Massachusetts Bay Colony. Here, he The tal f became a confirmed outlaw, murdering for food, or money, and terrorizing everyone. His brother, Jerry, had followed him from England to Virginia. Jerry had tried to put a stop to John's wrong-doing, but he was not able to stamp out the cruelty in his brother's nature. Finally, john had disappeared, leaving his brother wondering where he had gone. Hearing stories of Iohn's outlawry in Massachusetts, Jerry had come north only a few weeks before. Two days ago he had heard of Iohn's refuge on VVhite Horse Ledge. He had started immediately in order to reach his brother at the earliest moment possible. Just before the storm he had noticed a cabin slightly back from the trail. VVith the intention of asking permission to warm himself before continuing his journey, he knocked at the door, but no one answered. Knocking a second time he thought he heard a crackling sound. Glancing at the chimney at one side of the house he saw that smoke was issuing from it. Convinced that all was not well, he pushed against the door. After several at- tempts to open it, he finally called out, Let me enter, I'm a friend. A gruff, disguised voice came from with- in, What's your name ? Jerry Lackland, late of England. The door opened with astonishing ab- ruptness. Amazed, Jerry Lackland stared into the sullen face of his brother. Jerry's quick glance took in the dead dog and the chaotic condition of the cabin. Darn dog jumped on me, wanted to kill me, had to knife him. This explana- tion was given by John. Is this your place? At his brother's negative shake of his head he continued, What right have you in here then? Jerry turned to close the door. A blow between the shoulder blades knocked him down. With a bound John had disappeared into the fast approaching and foreboding storm. Stumbling to his feet, Jerry dazedly reeled over the threshold into the reviving coldness of the snow. Rising, he started in the direction in which his brother had gonej After four or five miles of rough walking in the gathering darkness, the storm broke. The demoniacal voice of the wind and the furious, blinding lashes of snow-whips made it impossible to go on. ,Turning back, Jerry felt his way along in the rapidly increasing snow drifts. The wind pulled at his cloak and the fancy trimming fiapped and fluttered about him. About three miles from where he had turned to come back, he thought he saw, during a lull in the storm, a black figure approaching, Suddenly, he heard the break- ing of a branch and the black figure dropped to the ground. Surmising what had happened he rushed forward. Coming upon the unconscious form he knelt and found that the 1nan's head had been severely cut and bruised. He had half dragged, half carried, the wounded man to the cabin that he had left that afternoon. After caring for the unconscious man he set about to arrange and clean the disordered cabin. He had been awake all of the previous night tak- ing care of Alden and replenishing the fire. . When Ellen returned home the next morning, he had explained his presence, but had said nothing about the disordered cabin, preferring to wait until Alden was well enough to hear his version. A little later the sun cast its golden splendor on the bowed heads of two men and a woman silently saying Christmas grace in a rude cabin in the heart of New England wilderness in the year sixteen hundred thirty. THROUGH DISOBEDIENCE 1-Edward! Come up here at once! The door into J'unior's room is locked and the children will not let me enter. It was the twenty-fourth of December at exactly ten olclock that, upo11 hearing these Words, Edward, known to his parish as the Rev. E. 'M. Sprague, came slowly up the stairs-too slowly considering the importance of this unprecedented occasion, but it seemed that nothing short of an earthquake ever stirred the Rev. Sprague from the customary. However, do not be- lieve that he was not agitated, for although he was ostensibly unconcerned, he was really in a most disturbed state of mind, in fact, the most disturbed state of mind since he had been ordained. But was not the first sign of disobedience upon the part of one's children provocation enough for being upset? joining his wife before the locked door Edward commanded in his sternest tones, Children, let your father in -a slight movement in the room, but no response. Again entrance was demanded, this time in almost menacing tones. Finally Edward resorted to an unusual method, and threat- ened. This unaccustomed method of persua- sion seemed to take effect, for after a short consultation Within the room, the door was thrown open to reveal a small Christmas tree, around which were grouped the three rebels-Eleanor defiant, Junior bewildered, and Joan plainly terrified. For -a moment their parents stood speechless on the threshold, viewing with mingled emotions the scene before them. As soon as they realized that their own children had broken the precedent set by Jonathan Sprague, many generations be- fore, had planned and carried out an idea in secret and above all had disobeyed for the first time, they were prompt to take action. Eleanor and Ioan were ordered to