Butler High School - Magnet Yearbook (Butler, PA)

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THE SENIOR MAGNET 11 station telephoning to Scotland Yard. “This is Number 315 at Mulberry Crossing. Five German spies ’ave been discovered at 214 1-2 Manchester Lane. Send six Secret Service men 'ere and the patrol and we can cover them.” . . . “Yes, sir, we’ve got the hevidence on them.” . . “Yes. sir. I’ll wait, sir.” Jerry was back at Tiny Tim’s side. “You stay ’ere, kid, we’ll need your hevidence against them.” It was only a few minutes before the motor car was beside them and Terry and Tiny Tim climbed in. At the tenement house two of the men were stationed by the fire escape while the other four with Jerry noiselessly mounted to the room. Just as the officers reached the end of the dark hall, door No. 214 1-2 opened and four men came out. Before they had time to realize what had happened they were roughly seized and rushed down to the patrol. The other man—the leader—darted to the window and down the fire escape only to be met at the bottom by the two guards. On the way to Scotland Yard. Tiny Tim had the seat of honor beside the driver where he sat erect as a soldier, his heart thumping proudly under his shabby coat, for the Secret Service men had praised him highly and had tolo him of what great value he had been to his country. When they reached the brightly lighted court at the Yard, Tiny Tim again told his story—this time to the interested Chief—while one of the officers opened the suspected suit case. From it he drew forth the trim uniform of an American soldier and a bomb containing enough deadly trini-tro-toluol to blow a huge ship to bits. Upon this evidence alone, the five Germans were later sentenced to be shot. “And as for you, Tim,” said the chief, “I want you to go with me tomorrow to St. James Park and see the wounded soldiers who have just returned from the front and who are to be decorated for bravery.” “I guess you’d better come with me now, sonny; me good wife Nora’ll find a comfortable bed for you in our ’ome down at Dover Circle an’ ye’re just to live with 11s always,” was Jerry’s cordial invitation. So Tiny Tim found a home—a home where there was a kind mother and a warm welcome waiting for him. The next day he went in a big automobile with the chief to the Park and when, after decorating the wounded Tommies, General Prince came over to the machine and pinned a shiny gold medal on Tim’s coat “for distinguished service in aiding his country’s cause and in saving the lives of thousands of soldiers,” there was not a prouder or happier boy in all London.

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10 THE SENIOR MAGNET the address on it,” the other man replied. “That was careless, but I guess there wasn’t anything important on it. Come to 214 1-2 Manchester Lane. There’ll be three other men there and Erdmann has something to tell us. Don’t forget the suitcase or the papers either.” After a few more instructions the two men parted, leaving Tiny Tim puzzled at what he had heard, for it was just what had been on the slip of paper which he had found. As for the men, Tiny Tim had often seen the one with the black moustache going into the room next to his and he had wondered what such a well dressed man could be doing in so poor a place. Then at other times he had heard subdued voices far into the night, but he had always been too tired to pay any attention to them. However, he was determined that this night he would listen to what the men were saying. That evening Tiny Tim moved his mattress over close to the partition and lay down to await the appointed hour, but the strain of the day proved too much for him and he soon fell fast asleep. It was not until after midnight that he was aroused by sounds in the adjoining room. Sleepily he remembered the meeting of the five men which was planned for that night. For several moments the boy listened intently but all was silence. Then muffled foot-steps were heard in the hall and the door of the neighboring room opened. “It’s about time you were getting here; we’ve been waiting for almost half an hour and a few minutes might mean life or death to us.” Tiny Tim recognized the voice as that of the man with the black moustache. “Well, I would have been here sooner but one of those fool Bobbies was walking up and down in front of here and I didn’t want him to catch me with this suitcase.” This sounded like the other man whom Tiny Tim had seen that day. “Come on, let’s get down to business. Erdmann has found out for sure that these troops that were here today sail from South Hampton tomorrow night and one of us has to place the bomb on the transport. We’ll draw lots and see which one it’ll be.” The first man, who was evidently the leader. was speaking again. There was a moment of intense silence, broken finally bv the solemn voice of the leader, “It’s for the Fatherland, Mueller, and your’s is the privilege.” Herr Mueller’s patriotism seemed to be chilled a little by the thought of what it would mean to him. “Ja, ja, a great honor! What do T get out of it, nothing but a watery grave with those verdampt Americans !” “But the Fatherland, the Father-land, Mueller, thing of it! There’ll be thousands of Americans go down with you and all Germany will honor you, so vour sacrifice will be worth while.” Suddenly the plot dawned on Tiny Tim and he was t|uick to grasp the seriousness of the situation—to realize that any moment the meeting might break up so that immediate action was necessary. Stealthily the boy crawled to the street door and then as fast as his two crutches could carry him, he hobbled towards the corner of Manchester Lane and Mulberry street where he was sure to find his faithful friend, Jerry, a London Bobby. Never had the distance to the corner seemed so great as it did in the darkness of that night, but finally Tiny Tim was telling all that he had overheard to the kindly, big policeman. In several long strides, Jerry was at the call

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12 THE SENIOR MAGNET Classs Poem Katharine Gillespie Our time has come for leaving After four glad years, And I'm sure we all are grieving For we go with sadness and with tears. We can feel justly proud Of this, our illustrious crowd, For you would find no better, you know If you were to look high or low. There's been lots of joy For every girl and boy, And the times have been gay and bright For our class of the Purple and White. Perhaps you would like to hear Just who’s who and why, So if this way you’ll turn your ear You’ll know all bye and bye. Fred McAlpine is a busy lad, For he has much to do; He is student manager of athletics, And president of our class, too. There is a little maiden fair Wrho knows her not is certainly rare: We like her smile and to see her without it We would not feel sure it was Kathryn Douthett. Jim McDowell, of football fame, Has looked all over town, But still he cannot find a color He likes as well as Brown. By being valedictorian Paul Jenkins can feel mighty proud, For it’s the first time in many a year That a boy has headed the crowd. Don Crumay is one of our crew And methinks from the way it looks The thing he likes best to do Is to wander by the Brooks. Margaret Henninger is salutatorian And if you could only hear and see The way that girl recites You’d know she deserves to be. There is a boy who’s always there On field or floor or anywhere, In football or basketball lie’s always on the job You don’t know who? Of course you do! It’s Bob. Janet Leedom had a little Lamb And with him she likes to tarry, For the sake of those who do not know It’s a human Lamb called Harry. Priscilla Rhoads, a nice young girl, Is a member of our set, Who always has hopes of being Young Xo matter how old she may get. Myra Scott is not very small, Nor is Ethel Shaw very tall But apart they almost never go For they fit together so. Putt MacDonald is hard to beat, Captain of the football crew, He did many a wondrous feat And helped us with basketball, too. There are other members of our class Whose names I do not mention, But the time is up and I must stop So no longer I’ll ask your attention.