Butler High School - Magnet Yearbook (Butler, PA)

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 Pennsylvania one of the most dreadful and appalling Indian massacres in the history of our state; namely, the Wyoming Massacre. A band of patriots under the leadership of one Peter Grove set out to subdue the savages. Upon hearing that trouble was brewing here, near where our village now stands, they journeyed some hundred miles to this valley to see if they could engage the band of Indians which they had heard of and if possible defeat them. This, if accomplished, would end the Indian trouble in this part of the country. The whites came to the junction of the Bennett branch and the Driftwood branch which unite to form the northwest branch of the Susquehanna River. They traversed the length of each branch to its source and upon finding no trace of the Indians, they returned to the junction of the two streams. There they found the band of Indians for which they had been looking. After a short decisive battle, the Indians retreated, since their bows and arrows were no match for the muskets of the whites. Taking their dead with them, the Indians fled for about four miles downstream, where they made a hasty camp. The red skins quickly started a council fire. Their dead were propped up facing the fire in a sitting posture. There the short funeral rites were held and upon being completed, the dead Indians were pushed forward into the ashes of the fire. The bodies were then covered over with ashes and dirt. We believe that this happened in our own community. Our stream, you know, is called Grove Run. Also, you know, on the steep mountain side which ascends abruptly from our churchyard, at a height of about five hundred feet, is to be seen a jutting rock called Sentinel Rock. Most of you are aware that tradition has it that this rock was used by the red men as a lookout point. From it one can see for many miles up and down the valley. Doubtless an Indian brave stood guard there while this burial ceremony and campfire took place. Tradition is correct in calling it Sentinel Rock. As you may have concluded, the site of this council fire is the present site of our churchyard. The skeletons were found at a depth of about four feet. Soil washing down from the mountain side has covered them to this depth in the century and a half that they have lain there. The sextons discovered traces of ashes around the remains and also noted that they had been buried in a sitting position with the trunk bent forward. Their position denoted that of an Indian who had died in battle. Had they been buried in time of peace, the skeletons would have been found in a sitting position with the knees drawn up under the chin and the ankles hugged close to the thighs. A burial of this type requires an egg-shaped hole which affords a minimum amount of digging with a maximum of space. The Indians, having only primitive tools with which to work, had to figure out ways in which to bury a body in the least possible space. It is indeed a coincidence that both the Indians and the whites chose the same burial plot. Wtih these remarks the meeting was closed and the mystery of the Otzinachin Valley was explained.------------------------------- Snow Snow. Biting, whistling, beating, stinging; Its swirling, surly, whiteness bringing Death. Snow. Gently falling, softly clinging; Its hallowed, glist'ning pureness bringing Beauty. —Forrest Foster °t!gc Twenty-eight

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The Mystery of the Otzinachin Valley Jack Hetrick Were the correct name of this valley mentioned, many would recognize it. For the present, we will refer to it by its Indian name of Otzinachin, which means The Place of the Demons . It was so called by the Indians, because the peculiar rock formations of gigantic proportions which abound there led the Red Men to believe that the demons met there in conference. Here are found high, steep mountains with precipitous sides and broad flat tops several miles in extent. In Colonial times, these mountains were covered with virgin pine, the size of which may be determined by a visit to our famous Cook's forest. Today, they are covered with both evergreen and deciduous trees which present a beautiful spectacle in the fall when the colors run riot. This, the setting of our story, is laid in the north central part of Pennsylvania. On a summer morning within the last decade, in a little country churchyard, two young men were busily plying pick and shovel digging a grave. Suddenly, one ceased his work, and with a cry of astonishment, knelt and recovered something from the grave. It was a human skull. As was the custom in the little village where this incident occurred, anyone who had time to perform the duties of sexton did so. Often, this service was performed for a very dear friend. No charge was made for their neighborly act to a bereaved family. It was for this reason that these two were engaged that day in preparing a final resting place for a fellow man. Taking the skull, they hurried to the home of the superintendent of the churchyard, in order to ascertain whether or not a mistake had been made in the location of the grave. Consulting the records, they found that no error had been made. The records consisted of a map upon which was the location of each grave and the name of its occupant. This had been kept ever since the church had been built. Accordingly, the self-appointed sextons returned and completed the grave. In the course of the excavation, two additional skulls and many bones constituting the complete skeletons of three human beings were unearthed. These, together with the first skull, were taken to the home of the superintendent, there to be discussed and their history unearthed, if possible. Of course, as in any small town, the inhabitants soon learned of the discovery. There was much talk over corn-cob pipes and much gossiping over back'yard fences. Dire tales began to circulate—tales of murder, secret burial and the like. The superintendent, upon hearing these tales, took it upon himself to get to the bottom of the affair. He consulted archeologists upon the characteristics of the bones, and after much investigation he at last came to a definite conclusion. He then called an open meeting at the town hall. When the assemblage had come to order, he began his discourse as follows: Friends, recently in our little town, a strange matter has come to light. Two good brothers, while digging a grave in the churchyard, uncovered three human skeletons almost entirely within the confines of the one grave. Naturally, you all have ideas os to what happened. Strange and fantastic tales have been invented. The purpose of this meeting tonight is to acquaint you with the truth of this matter. Our story takes us back to the year 1780. In that year, there occurred in Page T wcnty-scvcn

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First Person Singular Marion Baker It was the last week of school and, as usual, students were parked here and there along the wall waiting for the rest of the gang . If I have to listen to that blowhorn much longer, I'll simply die! exploded red-haired Nancy Martin, glaring viciously after the retreating figure of a boy. It was a noticeable figure, tall and swaggering. His ego is terrible, I admit: but maybe he can do all those things he says he can, temporized her more sedate friend, Helen Parks, a little timidly. They had just been listening to the many virtues and exploits of the new senior, Harry Dunlevy, as set forth by that worthy himself. He had recently moved to Rockville and since his arrival had succeeded in boring everybody with his talk of himself. Nonsense! It wouldn't be possible for one single person to do all those things, retorted Nancy. Let's do something to bring him down a peg or two. What do you say? All right, but what could we do? Can you think of anything? Oh, there's Art and Kenneth. Let's ask them if they can think of anything. Art and Kenny were two friends of the girls who didn't like Harry Dunlevy any better than the girls did. They had a boy's healthy contempt for a bragger; and as the two girls told them their idea of bringing about Harry Dunlevy's downfall, both boys evinced a more than a casual interest. Let's see. His talk of himself runs chiefly to his prowess as a swimmer, doesn't it? queried Kenny. Hm-m-m! I know! Class picnic next week. That gives me an idea; how about you? Kenny! shouted Art, I believe you've hit it! Oh, tell us! pleaded the girls. We ll have to work on it first, said Art. Then we ll tell you tomorrow. And the boys went off, resolutely refusing to talk. The next day at school they were more exasperating than ever. Every time they saw the girls, they would wink, and nod, and hold their fingers to their lips, very mysteriously. Kenny had a chance to whisper to Nancy, however, to meet them outside at noon, when they would reveal their plan of action. It seemed as though the morning would never end, but it did, as all things do in time, and the girls rushed out of the school building to meet the boys. As they turned toward home they inquired eagerly for news. Well, we've got it all fixed. At the class picnic next Tuesday, Kenny is going to have his cousin Jack Sharp here. Jack is champion swimmer of Mercer County, you know. Then, in front of the whole class, so that he can't refuse or admit he was only bluffing, Kenny will challenge Harry to swim against Jack. But what if Harry should beet him? asked Helen. If he is as good as he says he is, he might beat Jack, and then where would we be? He would be more conceited than ever. He can't beat Jack; Jack is one of the best swimmers in the state, argued Kenny. Page Twenty-nine