Butler High School - Magnet Yearbook (Butler, PA)

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THE SENIOR MAGNET 5 to a place by the roadside and barked, howled—perhaps some one might be near and hear him. But no answer came. So he pointed! He grew colder and colder—his body began to stiffen, his cut paw pained, his eyes burned— and still he pointed. Surely help would come soon. Seconds seemed as hours while he stood there; he thought he had been there for days. At last he was ready to give up—but no—he remembered the words his captain had spoken to him. How plainly they came to him— “Don’t give up!” Two hours later, when darkness had begun to fall, and a lull had come in the fighting, Boh Morse’s ambulance came dashing along the narrow road. He stopped short as he saw the other car standing there for he recognized it as Tom’s. A quick search told the truth. “Captain Tom” was dead! Bob Morse was unnerved: he dared not move; his gaze rested on Tom’s face, upon the face that had ever been so happy and yet so firm,—upon the face of the man who had been the very life of the di- vision—a man whom everyone had loved. And he was dead! “Ho Bob! come here.” He started, —it was Walton’s voice. Morse stepped out into the snow again and saw his helper standing a few yards away, an astonished look upon his face. But what was that beside him—something nearly covered with snow? He went up and looked, stood for a moment as if he had been struck dumb, and then smiled and murmured, “Bim.” There, standing in the snow which had nearly covered him, his pink nose held high and his tail straight, was Bim—frozen to death—pointing directly at the ambulance in which his dead master lay. And some time, when this great world war has ceased and men have returned to peaceful fellowship, if you should chance to visit Italy, near the city of Venice, you would see, I am sure, the bronze cross erected by the members of Unit L to “Captain Tom” Weston, and close beside it a small marble slab upon which this inscription is written: “To the memory of Bim, zvho zvas only a dog, but who gave his life for humanity and his captain.”

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4 THE SENIOR MAGNET been made all the harder. As he huddled by the huge fire Bim thought of how he had always been warm and well fed and happy before Tom had brought him here—and he almost wished he was back----------but just then his captain’s voice came to his ears,— and he was off—happy again, and ready to save some wounded man from freezing. On and on they went. The fighting was at a climax. Shells burst near, far, and everywhere. The snow was deep. wet. and heavy—and Bim was very tired and cold. Yet his captain went on and he must follow. Were they never to stop? A huge shell fell near the little ambulance and nearly turned it over—and still Tom dashed on! Bim had seen him drive in dangerous places before, but never in such a one as this. They had both been decorated for bravery and Bim had understood and been proud of it, —but he began to think this was something else. They were entering the very hottest of the fighting—men who needed attention lay on all sides—and still they went on! It was madness! Bim raised his eyes to his captain with a look of protest, but when he saw the firm set jaw, the keen eye, and the steady hand—he waited, waited to see what would come. At last they stopped. He leaped to the ground ready to follow Tom wherever he went. For a moment he waited and then Tom bent down to Him, took one fore paw in his hand and said, “We’re in a bad place, Bim boy, but we’ll get out—when we save that Tommy over there. Come on, old fellow.’ Away they went, half running, half crawling, in order to escape flying bullets. Closer and closer to the wounded man they came. Then there was a barbed wire entanglement to be dealt with. Tom crawled over it; then Bim ran. jumped, but he wasn’t quite high enough and one paw caught and was torn open. But Tom had not noticed. He had been too eager to save the “Tommy.” So Bim went on—even though every step hurt him terribly. At last they reached the goal—but it had all been in vain, for just as they got there the brave Tommy smiled, clenched his fists, and died. It was useless to take him now. They must go back to some of the others. Slowly they made their way back towards the ambulance—but suddenly a huge shell dropped near them Both figures fell flat in the snow and waited—and waited. Then another! —this time near enough that a flying fragment struck Tom square on the forehead. Bim saw his captain start, reel, fall—and he knew!—Tom was wounded! He didn’t wait. He had learned to know that one shell was usually followed bv another; so he grasped Tom’s collar firmly between his teeth and began, slowly and painfully, to drag him through the snow. The blizzard had grown worse. The snow stung him, blinded him—but he must save his captain. At last they reached the ambulance. Luckily the door was open—and with one supreme effort Bim dragged “Captain Tom” inside. Then came the question—what could lie do? He was half frozen—dazed— he couldn’t think. For perhaps ten minutes he lay on the seat and thought of a thousand things—and still of nothing. At last he decided. He couldn't get back to the hospital for aid—it was too far, and besides he didn’t know the way. But there was one thing he could do. Hadn't he been famous for it in former days? He could point! He limped

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6 THE SENIOR MAGNET AUNT JANE'S VENTURE INTO SOCIETY Gretchen Rebhun “Susa May Amelia, come right down here,” called old Aunt Jane, to her delinquent niece, who was primping as usual before her glass. “Ain’t no use of your a-puttin’ on them sickly airs, as if you was one of them alinguishing specimens that inhabit the place what the newspapers calls society. Now, see here, society ain’t nothin’ anyhow; it is just a merely pretence of what you ain’t, an’ you never was society and never will be.” “There you air with yer pirky bow settin’ a-side ways on that matty head. O’ course it is style, but style never called fer a mess like that. Take it down and braid it in them two skinny braids what becomes your moon face. Laws me! times were when style didn’t count and neither did the catchin’ of a mere man. Yer Aunt Aspinwallie didn’t believe in either, and look at her, she’s happy—she ain’t worried. But there I ain’t a-lecturin’ on the crimes of matrimony but on society. It never did nobody no good and I reckon it did me worse than nobody.” “Why, Susa May, I kin jist look back on most any episodes of my life without one mite of a quiver, but when I think of my one and only venture into society, I just fair have hysterics.” Susa May knew her aunt had started on another tale of her youth, so thought she might as well humor the old lady and listen while her aunt rambled on. “Seems only yesterday since Seth took me for his blushing bride—not blushing for pride or joy, but for shame, ’cause there was Seth a-wearin’ a vivid purple tie with a green pin check suit. I was too mortified to speak, except when the parson shouted ‘I do’ at me; even then I yelled ‘I do’ at the wrong time onst, when Seth should have sed it. Folks said I was a mite too eager. But then I have learned since that Seth never did have no sense of combinations, but the worst proof of it was his bridal outfit. “There I be wanderin’ agin an’ for-gitten to tell you about society and my Waterloo. “Well, you see, since I was a bride it was natural for me to have a party of some kind, after I had kind of settled down in my feathered nest. It was more of a nest without feathers but I guess it was nigh like a house behind the golden gates in my eyes. So naturally, I wanted to show off before the green eyes of the older married ladies, an’ bein’ an earnest church member, fer my age, I invited the ‘Ladies Aiders’ for my first show-off. “It weren’t no use to try to have a party on nerves at the same time, so with my nerves a-jumpin’, I started into fussin’ up my rooms. “Some wise man said as how ‘A woman’s house is her soul.’ Well if it is, my soul in them days must have been scoured clean for I fair wore my kuckles thru a trvin’ to make the place shine. I washed and stretched the chair tidies until they looked like pieces of cobwebs, like hung in Mrs. Wosen’s best room. She sure had a black soul accordin’ to her house, but the merriest face in all Rubenville. But ter come back to my story. “By the way, Susie, since you have finished braiden’ your hair, ye might as well shell them peas while I talk a mite. “Well, as I was a-sayin’. I had my