Butler High School - Magnet Yearbook (Butler, PA)

Page 8 text:

4 THE MAGNET and I shall be ever thankful. As a signal that you will comply with this request, turn down this cross-street.’ I dropped the wallet where he could not help seeing it, and sped up the street into the darkness. 1 turned and watched the man. When he came into the light of the street lamp, by whose help I had indited the epistle, he immediately discovered the wallet. He was a burly, villainous-looking man, with a scar extending an indeterminate distance across his left cheek. He looked at the money in the wallet, pulled out one of the bills, and read my note. He flashed an ugly, knowing glance my way, and passed down the side street as directed. Infinitely relieved, I walked more briskly up the avenue, again meditating the subjects of death and immortality of the soul. To my surprise, when I had come to the corner, I had no choice but to turn downwards. The avenue I was on extended no further. It was a “blind alley.” I could not turn up because of the paving and cementing work going on in the cross street. So down I turned. I was lost in my philosophizing, or I would have remembered that my villain had gone that way. As I passed the first alley, out stepped the man! With a wild cry, I dashed to the other side of the street and ran at full speed down the pavement. He followed at a killing pace. I quickened my speed from sheer fright, and was pleased to note that the man soon dropped back and finally stopped. Soon home, I learned that the critical point was passed, and my wife was on the road to recovery. Giving praise to our Saviour, I descended to my study because I was uncermoniously ejected from the sick-room. As I entered my study, a maid brought me my wallet and a note. Surprised beyond all measure, I quickly scanned the note and broke out in hearty laughter at the contents: “Mr. L. C. S. I found your wallet tonight on my beat. I followed you and seemed to have scared you by my sudden appearance at the alley. The money is intact, as I found it. Signed, John T. I'itzguard, Plainclothes Police.” Relieved, I wrote him a cordial letter, enclosing one of the thousand-dollar notes, and requested him to come and see me. His story as he told it to me later in a persona] visit, does much to clear matters up. The path I had chosen happened to be his beat, and he also imagined the wind to be a carrier of voices that night. It was merely a case of auto-suggestion. The bill he looked at was one of the thousand kind, he never having seen one before. Also, he had turned down the side street and over to the next avenue because he knew I must go the way I did. He was not quite as villainous as he looked—just a pugnacious Trish plainclothes “bull.” For the last six months I have been taking nerve cures.

Page 7 text:

THE M A G N E T SUSPENSE. (By Lcyland C. Stauffer.) ON E dark and dreary evening I walked the streets in despair. My wife was dying, and God knows what agonies I suffered. My very soul seemed to cry out in its bitterness against the irony of fate. I shunned the more densly populated streets, and sought the open and untrafficked ways. Above the cruel insistence, the maddening repetition of the counts I held against the cruel world, as in a second nature, t felt that I was being—. Oh, no, it could not be! It was only a trick of my grief crazed mind. As I turned up a dark, narrow and unfrequented street, a sharp and penetrating wind whistled down the avenue, buffeted from house to house ’till it met me, wreaking its vengeance ten-fold. Hatless and insufficiently clad, I was completely at the mercy of the whirling, shrieking gusts which beat and surged across my unprotected chest and my still more defenseless face, with a passionate and unrelenting fury of temper. Yet what was that foul clamor which was borne along by this gale? There suddenly seemed to be a dozen ringing, gutteral and screeching voices, each trying to reach my ears. Obstipui; stetemnt que comae; vox fancibus haesit! This demonstration of unearthly powers was exceedingly weird. The very tones of the voices were now enough to drive a music-loving soul crazy with despair of ever reaching the acme of their loveliness one moment—yet the next, and dulcet tones had changed to gruff, compelling accents, driving voices, or to murderous, commanding notes. The singular point of this medley, so supernaturally heard, was that though the voices changed, the words remained the same : “You are followed by him who would kill you! Escape while you may!” “Was this fancy?” I asked myself. Did I really hear the voices ringing in my ears, or was I becoming insane in my grief? I stopped to reason. If I were mad from grief, why did my brain manifest a mania so different from the cause of my derangement? The very fact that 1 was able to reason, to argue, pointed favorably to my sanity. Yet why was I plagued in this manner, when I could already scarcely bear the burden with which life’s chances had loaded my heart, my brain? Great was my relief when I came to a cross street, down which the horrible blast blew not. Hard! What was that! A heavy, padded sound, as of footsteps, manifested itself, coming up the street which I had just abandoned. It was true! I was followed! I fled, yet I stopped and re-assured myself. This was no portion of town for a murder; the man was following me to a more suitable spot for his deed. Were I to run it would only hasten my death, for I must again pass through the slums on my way to my home, in the better end of town. So I set out at a quiet, sedate pace, as befits a man in his later years. Still that ominous pat, pat, pat. pat of my pursuer’s feet followed. By this time my grief for my dying wife was forgotten—a sign of my cowardice. Suddenly, a thought flashed across my mind. I had over twenty thousand dollars in my wallet. For the money I cared nothing; I was rich. For my life, everything. Drawing out my wallet, I took a bill and, with a shaking hand and a fountain pen, wrote: “To him who haunts me: Take this money and go thy way. Harm me not.

Page 9 text:

THE MAGNET 5 AS THE SUN SANK. (By Beulah Scott.) ME sun had just begun to peep over the horizon, and gradually the dewy shadow was being lifted from the earth. Yet the people of the city in the northern part of France were astir. The streets resounded with the clash of musketry and the dragging of the cannon. Wails from children and the barking of dogs filled the air. Sturdy men and sad-faced women moved swiftly here and there. Why was all this commotion; this uneasiness ? The magistrate of the town, Monsieur Duport, had received a message the day before that the Germans were marching in that direction and would probably arrive there the following day. This was the cause of such distress. The sun had risen and its rays spread over the little city, filling it with beauty. The magistrate’s house, situated on the outskirts, was especially an object of much beauty. He and his wife, and their two children, twins, about twenty years of age, Francesco and Francis, lived here with a few servants. Francesco was the more boy of the two. In her childhood she had scorned her dolls and would run off and play with her brother and his friends. So she got the name of “Tom-boy” by the townsmen. Francis was very bashful and feminine in his tastes. Their father and mother had gone to the main part of the town— he to muster his men—she to comfort the women. Francesco and Francis were to come later with the servants. Francis was one of those fellows who put up a bold front, but really was a coward at heart. At the last minute he backed out. “I can't go! I simply can’t go!” he said to his sister. You must go! Think of the honor of our family ! What will father say ? You'll have to go! We’ll be dishonored forever! But I have a plan! You change clothes with me and I’ll go in your stead. We are exactly alike and no one will know the difference. I was always more of a boy than you, anyway —and it will save our family honor !” The change was quickly made and they proceeded to the town. Francesco took her position with the defenders, Francis taking his with the women. At noon the opposing army drew near. The townsmen, with their forces, advanced to meet them. The streets were deserted and all was quiet. The women had gone to the city hall and there awaited the tiding of the battle. The roar of the cannon disturbed the quietness and the battle raged furiously the whole day. In the meanwhile a battle was raging inside the heart of Francis. Why was he staying here with helpless women, when he might be doing something for his country? His own sister was out there fighting like a tigress. The disdain of the people—could he stand this? Somehow courage leaped up into his very soul. He rushed from the hall, to the amazement of all the women. Out of the city gate he rushed to the field of battle, forgetting that he was dressed as a woman. Up to the front he rushed, and the opposing army even stopped to see the cause of all the excitement. All they could see was a furious woman, followed by a man, who seemed to be trying to say something to her. This put life into the hearts of the townsmen and on they rushed after the pair with increased ferocity. Into the thick of the battle went the band, following the leader, a supposed woman. The battle was doubtful, each side doing its best. At