Central High School - Cog N Pen Yearbook (Newark, NJ)

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By EMiLY FRIEDMAN “Bunk!” Bartel Overton waved his hand derisively, and burst into a throaty laughter. Fred Newton turned and glowered indignantly at his friend. No one likes to be ridiculed, least of all a staid senior. “I tell you, it is not bunk!” he declared with char- acteristic vehemence. “Тһе story I just told you is absolutely true. Do you mean to say,” Bartel queried, arching his brows with mock incredulity, “that a man who has never run an airplane before in his life can step into one and make a successful trip in it?” “Why, surely! answered Fred with the positive- nes of a man who is convinced that he is right. But, he continued, you must remember that it is necessary for this man to be spurred on by a deeper emotion than mere reckless daring. The object of our argument, as you know, was оп an island. Не spent several years there, and one day a wreck was washed upon the beach which contained all the necessary equipment to construct a complete flying machine. Well, he managed to put the different parts together. filled the tank, and flew off to the nearest civilized island which was several hundred miles away. As you see, with this man it was a question of life or death. It was absolutely improbable that a ship would ever rescue him, as the island was far off the course of any vessel; naturally, pressed by circum- stances, he took a chance and came out of it alive.” Bunk! repeated Bartel, you only read of such things in books. I don't think anyone, no matter how necessary it was, could do a thing he had never done before. Meanwhile they had reached the end of the street on which they had been walking. With a brief So long —Bartel and Fred parted. Fred going home- ward, while Bartel turned toward the dock. Here he was to take pretty Jean Thiebalt for a sail upon the river. Bartel Overton, a clean-cut, lithe youth, was a com- parative newcomer to Forthawan, a town which nestled demurely between the River Shaset, Mt. Owl- ing and the Atlantic Ocean. Не, too, was a senior at the Forthawan High School. The winter before, he had been acclaimed far and wide as hero of the gridiron. The fellows admired him for his daring and sportsmanship; the girls admired him for his impudent good looks. Не had been attracted to Jean Thiebalt from the very first, and now it was common gossip that Jean would look at no one else. Several days before, Bart had received a trim sail boat as a gift from his father. Sailing was a popular sport among the younger folks. But at this time of the year, the latter part of April, it was rather precarious upon the river, as storms were very frequent and sud- den. However, anxious to try out the new sail boat, Bart and Jean had made arrangements to venture out. As Bart came upon the dock where his boat was moored Jean was already waiting. “I thought you weren't ever coming, Bart, was Jean's greeting as she smiled up into his face. Bart flushed slightly. He had never quite over- come his shyness before her. “І am sorry, Jean, he said. Fred and I were having quite an argument, and I suppose we were walking too leisurely. “Tell me about it!” I will as soon as we are out on the river, and Bart busied himself with his boat. He uncoupled it, helped Jean to her place, pulled up the sail and in a few minutes they were on their way towards Pirates’

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Islands, a picnicking rendezvous about half a mile from the shore. When one is with a person who is very interesting, one very seldom pays much attention to time or place. So it was with Bart. [Inexperienced mariner as he was, he paid little or no heed to aught else but his companion. He did not notice that the riplets of the river had increased in size; he did not heed the increas- ing force of the wind; he did not see the gathering grayness of the heavens; he was too engrossed in the tinkling melody of Jean's chatter; he was too happy. Bart had related his discussion with Fred, and their mirth echoed over the water. Suddenly, without a moment’s warning, ihe sky became black and the wind rose, lashing the waves into a fury. Involuntarily, Jean screamed, and be- fore Bart could lower his sail the force of the wind tore it out of his hands. Jean had been sitting facing him. The short boom swung around, caught her squarely in the chest and threw her into the whirling water. Dumbfounded and filled with consternation, Bart seized his helm and tried in vain to bring the craft around in the face of the wind. But with every minute it was carried further down stream by the current. The blow had rendered her partly unconscious, but the coldness of the water had somewhat restored her sense. Seeing her predicament, she went into a coma. Panic-stricken, Bart rose at the risk of capsizing the boat. Не tore the upright mast from its mooring and with it tried to reach Jean; but she was out of reach. His face blanched, he eyes burned as his throbbing brain seemed to pulse against them. It was too late for self-reproach or remorse, it was too late; for wish- ing could not bring Jean back to him. Even as he knelt in the boat and reached out his arms to her cry- ing hopelessly, Jean! Jean! Не saw her sink. A groan of anquish escaped from his. lips, and with a cry that might have been a curse, that might have been a prayer. he flung himself into the water that had metamorphosed from its placid gentleness to roaring ferocity. For several moments, Bart beat the water with his hands. Everything about him seemed black. Не struck out in Jean's direction. А great depression seized him. Years seemed to pass, and what was that people said about your reviewing your life while’ you were drowning? He wondered when he would start. He wondered what he would think. There was something he was holding. He wondered why he held so tightly. Vaguely he imagined he was hold- ing on to the boat. And in his other arm there was something too. From the distance, a great, great dis- tance, he could hear voices. What were they saying? What did they mean? Не wished they would tum out that gleaming light ; Bart opened his eyes with a start. Dazedly he looked about him. It was his bed, it was his room, and here sitting beside him was Jean. Не blinked, trying to shake off a stupor which seemed to envelop him. Jean was smiling, and as he moved to speak she reproved it by placing her fingers gently upon his lips. “The doctor said you are to be kept absolutely quiet, he warned him. But what happened? demanded Bart, ignoring Jean's admonition. Why, don't you remember? replied Jean. “After I fell into the river you jumped in after me and held on to the boat until Fred arrived with the launch. You saved my life!” “I saved your life? faltered Bart. At this point the door opened softly and Fred walked in. Yes! You saved Jean's life, he vouchsafed. “At the same time you almost drank up the whole River Shaset. It was lucky that you told me you were going on the river with Jean. When the storm broke loose and you had not returned, 1 became worried and went out in a motor launch with Jean's father.” “Yes, Bart, dear, Jean added warmly, as she pressed his hand. “Dad says your the bravest fellow ever. But, Jean, protested Bart weakly, how could I ever have saved you? Why. 1 г “That's just и! exclaimed Fred, his eyes beam- ing. He can't swim, Jean! I'll say he's the bravest ever!” Bart blushed to the roots of his hair. “Bunk!” he murmured. SPRING By Daisy Eskowitz The birds above our heads do sing, So happy, gay, and bright, For now it is the Dawn of Spring With Sunshine’s welcome light. Bleak Winter with her frost and snow Is off to her home—away— And with love our hearts are filled, In the merry month of May. The flowers surround us—in—bloom— With a fragrance too sweet to explain, And the love notes of birds as they sing to their mates, Seem too sweet and too rare to retain.