Bristol High School - Green and White Yearbook (Bristol, RI)

Page 17 text:

THE (iREEN AND WHITE 15 His chance of survival was about one in a million. With difficulty Gansen freed himself from his moody thoughts and turned his attention to his own danger. He immediately perceived how small were his chances of survival, but realizing that it was just as dangerous where he was as anywhere else, he determined to push on. Accordingly he raised his greatly diminished pack to his back, and, lowering his head, marched unfalteringly into the midst of the approaching storm. The sun disappeared behind the horizon and it was night, utter blackness, but he still strode on. With a terrific howl, the storm hit, but failed to check his progress. Two hours later, his fur-clad figure was still pushing its way through the stygian darkness which encompassed him. The gale shrieked and howled about him, but left him unmoved. The cold was intense but he continued to walk. As a matter of fact his progress was merely mechanical, as he had long ceased giving any heed to his position. Five hours later, the blizzard had died down but Gansen still plowed on through the snow. His feet were not lifted up at each step, but dragged along just over the snow. The intense cold continued, the new fallen snow became frozen, still his fur-clad figure moved on. A fire was gleaming out of the darkness, a group of men were sitting about it, enjoying its welcome heat. They were telling stories in low monotones, stories of war, adventure, and of ghosts. The blizzard had blown itself out; stars appeared in the sky, the light reflected against the snow, forming a dim ghastly light over everything. The leader of the party got up from the circle about the fire and disappeared in the dim shadows caused by its flickering flames. A few minutes later he re-appeared, followed by a tall, thin man, whose features were hidden by his fur hood, but who was quite evidently a man of considerable importance. They joined the group about the fire. The fire burned low, there was utter silence, a dreadful silence. Suddenly the leader turned and addressed the late-comer. Tell us, doctor,” he asked, “will the body of a man continue to move after death?” The man addressed looked up in surprise. That is a curious question, what do you mean?” One of the men interrupted, saying: 1 mean that some people if they are walking, and have been walking for hours, will continue to walk even after they arc dead, until some external force causes him to stop. “Yes, that is true,” the doctor replied, “the muscles continue to work just like those of a snake do. Anything is likely to happen in this dreadful place, anyway, which has swallowed up mysterious civilizations and people by the millions. All that this frightful continent contains will probably never be known.” There was silence, each man was concerned with his own thoughts. Then from out of the darkness surrounding the fire, there emerged the figure of a man. At the very feet of the thunder-struck leader, it stumbled and fell. The doctor leaped toward it, turned the body over. “Been dead for hours,” he said. The men drew closer together and looked about with frightened eyes. Another mystery of the frozen South. HAROLD DeWOLF. HENRY’S DREAAl Come listen to me, schoolmates, I've a story to relate About a worthy Senior, On a very recent date. The “Junior Prom was held that night, The date was May the third. When Henry left this earthly sphere And tried to be a bird. He had trod the light fantastic With his schoolmates large and small, And at the “Cinderella Hour,” With regret had left the hall. The ride “to town” in his Buick Was over all too soon And his return on the new state road Would have made the State Cop swoon. But now a mist comes o’er his eyes, Morpheus knocks upon the gate, He slackens speed—he crawls, he nods, Henry cannot keep awake. He stops his car, gets out and walks, He paces to and fro. He ruhs his heavy lidded eyes, Then in—and home he goes. Again Dame Nature takes a hand. He’s off in dreams so sweet. His car is really well behaved, And turns down Market Street. Sweet visions pass thru Henry’s brain, Tall blondes, demure brunettes, A moonlight waltz—alluring eyes, A dream he won't forget. When he awoke ’twas with a crash, No car, no lights saw he, His arms were round a sturdy oak, He was talking to a tree. FREDERICKA DUNBAR, ’30.

Page 16 text:

14 THE GREEN AND WHITE CHOLERA !! Cholera—the dreaded disease—begins with nausea, restlessness, and chilly sensations; pain in the stomach, and in the region of the heart is often severe, and sever cramps occur in the calves and arms. The victim suffers continually from thirst. Either the victim sinks into a fatal coma or improves only to contract pneumonia. The schooner “Mary Ann” lay at quarantine. She had just completed a perilous voyage from Calcutta. There, half her crew had succumbed to the scourge of the East— Cholera! Her captain had guided the ship from this hell-hole of India with only half of her regular crew. They had all breathed a sigh of relief when on a bright spring day of April, 1896, they sailed into San Francisco harbor. There she lay at anchor, straining at the hawsers which held her to the dock. No signs of activity could be seen aboard her. The crew had been duly inspected and had left the ship. Night was rapidly coming on and was enveloping her with its mantle of gray. Slowly and with great effort crawled a huge gray rat from out of a dark open porthole. It wobbled towards the large cable which was situated near the porthole. With the agility of a circus performer it perched itself upon the cable now taunt by the outgoing tide. In its intestines and coursing through the blood of the rat were millions of deadly cholera germs. There were enough of this bacteria to infect the whole rat population of San Francisco. Once the rats of the city had become infected it would not take long for the population to become infected. Slowly the creature crept forward. Hugging the cable with its fore-feet and pushing itself with its hind feet, it slowly advanced, swinging to and fro with the motion of the rope. It was now only ten feet from the dock. Twenty thousand lives perhaps hung in the balance. Only seven feet from the dock— slowly the deadly incubator advanced. Suddenly the rat hesitated. It swung to and fro. Would the rat perform its circus feat? The ship lurched—there was a splash—San Francisco was spared a cholera epidemic. R. MAKOWSKY, ’30. THE PRICE OF MADNESS The wind was howling across the vast Antarctic wastes. A blizzard was coming up, the sun was just disappearing over the horizon. It would soon be night, a real night, lasting for six months. George Gansen stood up. He looked into the distance, as he had done for the last two days, as though in search of something, but in vain. As far as the eye could reach, stretched the desolate expanse of ice and snow, unbroken by even the slightest inequality of elevation. Two days before Mt. F.robus had sunk out of sight, and since that time Gansen had struggled blindly across the frozen plains. Already he had ventured further into the great unknown than had any other man. As far as he knew no living foot had ever trod the earth where he now stood, and yet this knowledge afforded him no elation. Even now when his food was all but gone, and his sense of direction all wrong, he had no thought for his own danger. He shuddered as he recalled his predicament and compared himself as he was to what he might have been. For George Gansen had once been in very different straits than these. His father had been one of the wealthiest men of his community. George, himself, had been given every advantage money could bring. He lias been carefully educated at the very best schools and had been enrolled in one of the most exclusive colleges in America. He was very successful there, for not only was he a fine scholar. but a remarkable all-round athlete. After his graduation he entered business with his father, and after the death of the latter he continued the business and under his able direction it expanded until it became the largest of its kind in the world. Then everything changed. In twenty-four hours lie was a hunted criminal. Conditions were absolutely reversed. Where he had been one of the most envied of men he now was the mots hated and feared. For he had committed a murder. He had killed a man in cold blood, without the slightest reason. Why had he done this? Standing there, under the pitiless grev skies of Antarctica, Gansen himself couldn’t understand what had happened to him. He had been sitting in a restaurant with a business acquaintance. They were eating a steak dinner. Gansen was carving it with a great, sharp knife. He had just served his friend when he suddenlv leaned across the table and ran his knife through the throat of the unsuspecting man. After that everything was blank. He had a confused impression of dashing off down the street, of train rides and of a tramp steamer in which he was apparently sailing. Then there was a terrible storm: the ship was wrecked. Gansen alone was left alive. When the storm had cleared, he went back aboard the disabled vessel and, taking all the food be could carry, and dressing as warmly as possible he set out along the coast. When Mt. F.robus. his sole landmark, sunk out of sight, he wandered from his course into the interior. He now stood two hundred miles from the coast ,in the midst of a trackless waste in the path of an approaching blizzard. COMPLIMENTS OF DIXON LUBRICATING SADDLE CO.

Page 18 text:

CLASS OF 1931—Room 3