Butler High School - Magnet Yearbook (Butler, PA)

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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

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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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 Yes, but we don't know how good Harry is. He might be better thon we think he is. He moved here just a few weeks ago, you know, answered Helen resolutely. If he can beat Jack, I'll take back everything I ever said about him, stated Arthur. Oh, goodness! ejaculated Nancy suddenly. What's the matter? What if it should rain! But Tuesday dawned, a warm and beautiful day. Word had been passed around the class to be there early for a big event. It was not long in coming. When Jack challenged Harry, the whole class hung on his words, watching for the slightest hesitation in Harry's face. But he accepted calmly without a noticeable qualm. Astonishment and a momentary uneasiness were reflected in the faces of the four conspirators. They needn't have worried, though. Splash! went both boys into the water as the starter yelled Go! The race was to be a distance of about one hundred yards, from the old chestnut tree overhanging the water, around the bend to a black stump just this side of the shallows. With long, easy strokes Jack was on his way, while Harry's arms pumped up and down churning the water into foam. By the time Jack had reached the stump, Harry hadn't even rounded the bend, and it was minutes afterwards that he reached the stump, winded and spent. Everybody in the class had wanted to see Harry set down , but so humiliating was his defeat, that sympathy suddenly swung to his side. It was well known who was responsible for the race; Helen, Nancy, Art and Kenny met with accusing glances from all sides. You planned all this. Aren't you ashamed of yourself? said one of the girls indignantly. You ought to apologize to Harry; it's the least you can do. Murmurs of agreement arose from the boys and girls who had formed a circle around the four. All right, all right, agreed Kenny hastily to this speech and the angry glances around them. Well, here he comes now, said the accusing voice icily. The circle slowly opened and Kenny came forward to meet Harry, who had just come out of the bath house with his dripping suit in his hand. I say, old man— Kenny started, but Harry broke right in, Say, if that had been a diving contest, could I have showed him! I would have beaten him so badly he would have felt sick! The jaws of the spectators dropped, as looks of righteous indignation gave way to sheer astonishment. Some folks never will learn— , murmured a voice somewhere in the crowd, but nobody paid any attention. They just stood staring dumbly while Harry sauntered nonchalantly over to the lunch baskets and helped himself to the biggest sandwich he could find. Page Thirty