Calaveras High School - Skull Yearbook (San Andreas, CA)

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on the dresser as if it, too, were worried. I determined not to let suspicion enter my mind again, for surely the man whom I had known and loved so many years could not be guilty of such a crime. Yet things looked bad, and I would find myself unconsciously trying to find a motive. Of one thing I was sure, it was not money, for we had cleared up fifteen thous- and apiece on our two claims, the Midas and the Florence R. Anxiously I went to seek the advice of Shorty Smith, a shrewd little friend of mine. I climbed to his rooms above Dad's Drink Emporium and knocked at his door. A voice bade me enter andl found my friend dili- gently brading a leather quirt. Top o' the mornin to yu, he said 'cheer- fully, heard all the news? I said that I had, and wanted him to help me clear up Jack's disappearance. Don't worry about the lad, I warrant he's cortin. ' ' You make me tired, I replied, they accuse him of blowing up the postoffice. Do they, now he replied calmly, and turn- ing his back he threw a line out of the window baited with a piece of bread. Soon he hauled up a fine white rooster Happing his wings vigorously in his endeavors to escape. In reply to my objections, 'tShort just grinned and remarked something about taking a payment out in chickens. What would you do? I asked, coming back to the subject of Jack. Me? he queried, oh, I guess I wouldn't woeey. Getting no satisfaction, I went out slamming the door behind me. As the door closed, he called out, I heard that if Jim Burnham's heart hadn't been in his mouth at the time he'd have been killed. I did'nt relish his stupid jokes, and kept on. 'When I reached home I waited, but nothing new turned up. The posse came back empty- handed, a fact which relieved me somewhat. They had tracked the bandits into the moun- tains, but had not succeeded in getting them. The outlaws were heading for a mountain valley infested with thieves and rustlers. If they reached this place, it would take an army get them out. A new posse was formed, I was in it duly deputized. We struck track and followed through boulder 183 strewn canyons that looked like giant's battling grounds, over trails so rough that we had to lead our horses. Some times we followed no trail, but pushed straight ahead to cut the outaws oH', while' the other posses were sur- rounding them from different sides. On the second day out, we reined in our horses on a high divide surrounded on all sides by steep mountains. Some were gleaming white and cold above the snow line, while the lower slopes were cloaked in dark blue and purple. Below us was a valley, or rather a hole in the rocks, deeply wooded and dark. It looked dangerous, it was so very quiet, dark, and secretive. No tell-tale smoke arose, no ring of ax or gunshot told of human presence. Yet we knew that in that little valley were five men who had broken the laws of the land and, had attempted to take the life of a fellow creature. Justice demanded these men, and we were sent to get them that they might pay for their misdeeds. I will not try to describe my feel- ings as I stood there, knowing that in that valley I was hunting a man who had been my friend, yet was as guilty as any of his compan- ions. I had been sworn in as a deputy sheriff, and was not going to aid in the escape of a felon. It sounded hard to me, but I was firm in my resolutions. Having surveyed the country, we began to descend over a rough trail. We led our horses over boulders, under impending rocks, and along slippery ledges where one misstep would hurl us into a chasm hundreds of feet below. Our horses' feet were sore, so we led them slowly. We went warily, each man on the alert, one hand clutching the reins, the other his carbine. We were deal- ing with men who were desperate and who valued life very lightly. We finally reached the floor of the valley and made camp for the night, after hobbling our horses and posting a guard. The great white moon rose over the snow capped peaks, tipping each mountain and trimming each tree with silver. Far away the shrill Hyap yappingu of the Coyotes was borne to us on the night air. The shrill cries of the night birds, the whispering of the pines, and the distant wailing of the coyotes was all that I could hear, yet there was some subtle movement abroad for the horses were stamping their feet restlessly. I crept up and down my beat noiselessly, peer-

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JUMPING ATQ The following took place in a small frontier town, in the early eighties. The town con- sisted of a couple of stores, a postofiice, and a half dozen thriving saloons and dance halls. It was not a peaceful community, though the days of 'tdead men for breakfast were past, the stage came in occasionally with the driver or messenger shot up, and the passengers re- lieved of their coin. Sometimes a man would come spurring into town with tales of Indian uprisings. These rumors, however, when fol- lowed up, generally ended in the finding of some old buck moving his family to other camping grounds. Respectable citizens were still in the habit of grasping a gun in each hand, if awakened at midnight, and of speed- ing cowboys who were too hilarious on their way with forty-four pellets. One night, or to be exact, one morning, the patrons of the Oasis, one of the thriving saloons, heard a muffled roar as if some explo- sion had taken place. Those who were able rushed out into the street with their hands full of six guns, seeking the cause of the disturb- ance. It is instinct to fire on anything run- ning, so these citizens, seeing some horsemen galloping down the main street, opened fire. One man dropped from his horse, and another reined in and dismounted. I was the first to reach the fallen man and was horrified to see the sheriff lying there unconscious and bleed- ing. On examination we found him to be shot through the left breast, so we gently carried him into a near-by house. The deputy told us that they were returning from chasing some rustlers, and, on hearing the explosion, rode up to investigate. On their approach, five men ran from the postofhce and opened fire on them. The posse returned the fire, but, owing to the darkness, no one was killed. The posse was in full pursuit when the well meaning citizens had dropped the sherid in his tracks. Going into the postoffice, we found everything topsy-turvy. Tables and chairs were knocked over and the safe was open, its heavy door lying in the middle of the Hoor, amid a confusion of papers. While poking around curiously, we heard a low groan and found Two Gun Duncan, a CONCLUSIONS. most valiant man, stuffed into a mail bag, bound and gagged, his face covered with post- age stamps. From the bag hung a card with this inscription, Please feed. It seems funny now, but the poor fellow had received a terrible blow on the head, and was almost unconscious. We untied him and applied restoratives till he was able to sit up and tell us about it. He gave a good description of the men, and, carried away by the restora- tives, perhaps, he accused Jack Dawsen of being one of them. This made me sick with fear and doubt. Could it be? No, decidely notg Jack would never be fool enough for that, yet there was the recognition. It was foolish of me to worry so, this was surely the work of yeggmen, with whom Jack would not be in league. I dropped in to see the sheriff on my way home and found him very badly off. This made me more depressed than ever. I went home slowly, dreading all the time that Jack would not be there. I mounted the stairs with reluctance, fearfully turned the knob, and entered. Everything was still. I crossed the room to Jack's and put my ear to the door, there was no sound. I entered and struck a match. I could not find a lamp, so twisteda piece of paper that was lying on the table and lighted it. By its flickering light I saw that the place was empty. Oh, well, I thought he's got interested in a game, and maybe he's winning. I returned to my room and threw myself on the bed, but could not sleep. That suspicion was on my mind, and I would have done anything to Duncan with the greatest of pleasure. Jack and 1 had always been partners and we shared everything. We had seen ups and downs together, andl had come to love him as my brother. To think that he would do this was too terrible, and I tried to put the suspicion from me. The soft wind of dawn was blow- ing in on me as I lay tossing and sleepless. Gradually the room lightened, and I saw all the things we had gathered together: the Sioux war bonnet, his silver mounted saddle, beautifully chased silver spurs which a ful Mexican had given him, and a little picture frame lying face down amid the the

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ing sharply down the forest aisles, lest some unseen marksman pick me out along his rifle barrel. No fire had been built and my compan- ions lay rolled in their blankets side by side, motionless and silent, save when some one would utter a troubled groan or a sigh as he slept. It was time to change watch, and I had called one of the boys when my eyes detected a slight movement in the gloom of the forest. I watched and saw a dark shadow creep closer and closer, then separate. It was time to arouse the camp. We all lay quiet with rifies at half cock, waiting for a signal. When the silent shadows began to creep in on us, we opened fire and charged them. Taken by sur- prise, they were easily captured. One was dead, one lay wounded, and two others were trussed up to a tree when we were again pre- pared for sleep. The next day the wounded man died in spite of what we could do, and we buried him and his companion beneath the pines, with the great white mountains stand- ing guard. The two survivors appeared stoical enough, although I knew the parting was sad. But where was the fifth? Where was Jack? Where's the other one? I asked one of the outlaws. 'tHe cashed in a day ago, we left him on Injun Creek, they was running us clost. Dead! I could not believe it. Still it was better, perhaps, for the little girl whose picture stood on the dresser. I saw it was up to me to write her a letter, and tell her a lie, and it did not suit me inthe least. At any rate I would give him a heroic death. We reached town and hurried our prisoners by a back way to the jail so that the over- zealous citizens would not see them and treat them roughly. We were received like conquer- ing heroes, and many invitations had to be refused before I reached my own door. What was the noise in my rooms? Voices and laughter came to me on the stairs. Iloosened my six-gun in the holster, pushed my door open softly with my foot, and stepped quickly in. Such a sight met my eyes. The rooms were elaborately decorated, and acrowd of happy looking people were making merry. I was seized and hustled around. There was Jack, Shorty, Duncan with his head in a band- age, and many others, one of whom, a little stranger, Jack led blushing up to me. I started in amazement, for she was the original of the little picture on the dresser. Well, it was all cleared up. He had gone to meet the girl and had brought her home while I was off in the mountains on a wild goose chase. The man on Indian Creek cer- tainly was a dead ringer of Jack when it came to looks. The note Jack left me, Ihad used as a torch. In my hurry to make things fit my ideas I had gone a tride too fast. Jack and Florence settled down in asnug little home, as happy as two kids. This left me running loose. I began to realize that I was getting to be an old bachelor, almost thirty- seven. I found myself frequently examining a little picture on the inside of my watch case, and digging up her letters. The die was cast. I would go back. Shorty caught me packing my things, and asked me what I was doing. t'People gettin too soft and sentimental around these diggins. I pull out to-morrow, I replied. Goin to get married yourself, old scout. Can't tell me, I know em, he said, all fools ain't dead yet. Good-by, he slammed the door. A minute later he poked his head in and said, 'AAs a parting bit of advice, let 'er have her way in little things, but be boss, that's my experience. Shorty closed the door just in time to avert a catastrophe to his face. ROBERT McCONNELL, '15.