Cleveland High School - Legend Yearbook (Portland, OR)

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Sixteen] THE LEDGER A DYING EXPERIENCE By Anne Blackler I was dead and I knew I was dead. There was absolutely no doubt whatsoever about it. What is more, I also knew where 1 was. Now, I always pride myself upon my extraordi- nary ability to guess about things and be right about it. Anyone can guess about any particular thing, but to guess and do it correctly is an entirely dif- ferent matter. Such was the case here. I knew I was dead, and, after a few moments concentrated thought, I even guessed where I was and was cor- rect about it, too. Yes, I was dead. In my nose was the strong odor or fresh varnish. With my bare foot, I felt the smooth sides of the narrow box I was in. Lifting my hand, I touched the varnished top. Then, too, it was so clo;.e and hot in that box ; I never had been so hot ! I began wondering if I ' d see any of my old friends and enemies here. I expected to see a few of the old gang, and, yes, some of those very wise school teachers. I began to think of the things I ' d say to them. My thoughts were of rather a foolish nature and I became confused as that heat irrew more and more unbearable. Let me out! I want out of this hot-box! I should also like to see the old familiar faces and my teachers as well. Let me out of here! This I seemed to scream in a shrill, wailing, falsetto voice. Then, I was answered by a long, piercing shriek which burst forth at intervals of but a few seconds. 1 also heard terrible confusion and grind- ing noises. All this time, I was being suffocated by that intense heat. Desperately I kicked out with my bare foot, only to feel a strong hand clasp my foot and — pinch my leg! That was adding insult to injury. What is more, my leg was pinched in a manner which con- vinced me that it was evidently a habit of theirs — to pinch peoples ' legs so cruelly. I was choking with indignation when a deep voice bellowed in my aching ears, Boston next stop, Sah. All out fob Boston! I sat up with a jerk and whacked my head un- kindly on the top of that box. I was positive that I not only burst open my head, but splintered that wooden top and, of course, ruined its extra fine coat of varnish. Oh, bother that old box-top, it was my head that hurt me the most! When my scattered thoughts began to assemble once more, I realized where I was. I was in an upper berth of a train bound for Boston. It was the darkey porter who had pinched me into wake- fulness, thus ending my nightmare wherein I thought myself to be dead and in the land of the Hereafter where it is HOT! As I grumbled down the aisle to the dining car for some breakfast, I vowed I ' d never again eat another extra piece of pie for my evening dessert. Told by a Wrecked Ship By Kenneth L. Collins, S. P. One time men looked on me with pride. As swiftly did I sail. The mighty sea when it was calm — And in its roughest gale. I loved the ocean ' s chuckling voice Beneath my curving prow; I loved the saddened sea gull ' s notes, I loved it all, but now — I lie a storm tossed derelict Upon this wretched shore. Half covered by the trees and grass. To lie for evermore.

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THE LEDGER [Fifteen D64 9 8 10j2q 3ka57 C a 10 8 9 4 q j 2 6 3 k 7 5 S 5 q 9 j 3 k a 10 2 7 6 4 8 H k a 5 j 10 q 6 9 3 7 8 2 4 After a moment ' s perusal he absently handed it back to Gaffon. This is not the formula, Emil. Our agent said it was in plain handwriting;, not in typed cipher. ' ou have failed miserably. Vou will remember that you are to sail tonight. Back at headquarters K-19 was speaking to his chief. No doubt Bradley ' s assassin, ' Lithpy Lou ' or an unknown, left him for dead, but while a spark of life still remained, he tried to leave a message tell- ing of what had occurred. He died before com- pleting his writing, but enough was finished to give us the clew that Emil Gaffon is probably the un- known assailant. The parrot was on the desk and happened to pull the card inside the cage. When Carson moved the bird he failed to notice the paste- board. A signal light flashed on the desk, and the chief picked up the phone. Hello. Then followed silence while he listened to the person at the other end of the wire. Yes, absolutely. Rush it up here at once, he resumed. Then he turned to K-19 as he replaced the receiver. Gaffon has been caught. Just in the nick of time, too, for he has tickets for the Aquitania which sails tonight. He did not have the formula on him, but the inspector downstairs iust reported that he has found a paper in Gaffon ' s pocket on which is written a code message. He is bringing it here now. The elevator door slammed out in the hallway and a man in a neat gray uniform stepped into the office. He handed the chief a paper and then left. Of course you know, K-19, that Gaffon is a famous spy. We have not been able to discover which government he serves. As the chief was speaking he had been unfolding the slip of paper. It was the one that Gaffon had shown to the ambassador. Doesn ' t seem to be any of the usual ciphers, he muttered. Then showing it to K-19 he said. The capital letters at the beginning of the lines must be the ke s. Idly the chief thumbed the deck of cards which had been found on Bradley ' s desk. Suddenly glanc- ing at these cardboards he said, Say, these num- bers, like these on the cards here, don ' t run above ten, and the ' a ' could mean ace; the ' j ' , jack: the ' q ' , queen, and the ' k ' , king. D, C, S, H could mean diamonds, clubs, spades and hearts, chimed in K-19. For a moment the chief remained silent, thinking, then he said, As I read off these numbers you find the cards and turn them face downward, all in one pile. He started at the row believed to be diamonds and read across. He did the same with the other rows. When he had finished the cards lay in a stack. He surveyed the result and saw, on the side of the assembled deck a word in purple ink. It was cage . On each of the other three sides was another word. The four together were finally made to read, Parrot cage false bottom . A month later the chief was sitting in his office talking to K-19, who had just returned from an assignment in the south. Quite a clever idea of Bradley ' s, wasn ' t it? the chief asked. ' es, no one would think of looking under the bottom of a parrot ' s cage for such an important document. But saw what is going to happen to Gaffon? He is sentenced to be hanged. In the field within the walls of the great federal prison where Emil Gaffon was held awaiting his death, a trial of the famous Purple Ray was being made. The preying light was focused upon a happy, barking little dog. It died, sacrificing its life that America might learn to control its great weapon, the Ray. From out of the prison dashed a con ict with the guards giving mad chase. The fleeing man rushed unheedingly into the path of the Ray. Emil Gaffon, murderer and spy, crumpled into an inert, lifeless heap. He had been but the play- thing, the veapon of his king.

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THE LEDGER [Seventeen THE DEAD MAN WITH THE STRAIGHT FACE Bv Arden Paxgborn I am prematurely aged. The speaker paused and bowed his head. The slanting ra s of the setting sun beamed down upon the long hotel veranda. The gray hair of the story teller caught and held the brilliant golden particles of light. A halo of rufous light surrounded his head, making a crown, recherche and regal. I have paid, he breathed. His face lifted. The sun bathed it with its molten gold. Yes, I have paid, he repeated. For years I have lived with a scorching pain, a tortur- ing dread tearing at my very being. It has searched my soul ; it has borne me with it down to the grave. I am to die. I know it; I can feel it creeping over me — the chill of death. See, he stood upon his feet and pointed over the railing, that little golden hair across the bay. There I spent the happiest and the unhappiest moments of my life. The listeners looked. Far down on the waters a jagged outline reared itself above the level of the bay. The setting sun had also touched this spot with its transparent carmine pigment. A line of red and golden hues — there had been the fulfilling of great promises of great futures, the aspirations of great men, or their breaking; there had been the filling of many a lover ' s cup of joy, of happiness, or of sorrow. The group turned. The man was huddled in his chair. His face was low. They thought that he had fallen asleep, but he, sensing their renewed at- tention, roused himself and spoke in a hollow voice. I will tell you my story, he said. You may not believe. You may be skeptical and laugh at me; nevertheless, I will tell. The time has come. I was just a lad, only eighteen. You will un- derstand. I was madly in love. Marietta, ah! she was beautiful. I loved her as I loved the sun, the moon, the stars; yes, I loved her. She was my mind, my soul, my body. But there was another. Pietro Becucci loved her too. She loved us both. I knew she would choose between us. The whole village knew it. We could do nothing but wait. She told us one day that, if we would give her two months, she would decide. We agreed. The time dragged on. The suspense was unbearable to my young blood. I began to feel my hold slipping. I knew her affections were leaning toward Pietro. I could not bear to see her go to him. The crisis came at last. The night was hot. I could not sleep; I could not lie still. I arose from m - bed and started for a stroll in the moonlight. It was beautiful, the moon, the trees, the world. It filled my heart with music, my step with elasticity. I wandered out past the sleeping village. I fol- lowed the stream flowing under the arched bridge. . . . Satan must have guided the steps of my nocturnal meandering. . . . The man paused once more and drew his hand slowly over his forehead as if to wipe away the clouds that were enveloping and obscuring his brain. He crouched down in his seat again after this vain gesture and continued. I came upon them. It was under a large grape bower that they stood. I saw; they did not. I waited. My emotions bubbled up to the overflow- ing. I was angry; I was jealous. I laid myself down in the tall grass and watched. Pietro said something. Marietta nodded. He took her in his arms; he held her close; he kissed her. It was insufferable. That I had lost Marietta was obvious. However, the seeds of cowardice had been planted within me. The inquietude of my mind drove me to iniquitous, insensate furv. I saw the way out. On his way home that night Pietro was acci- dentally killed by the falling of a huge branch. By the ephod of my father, I knew not what I did! The stigma of my miserable deed, so surrepti- tiously accomplished, did not trouble me then. Marietta mourned for a little while, but in the end I won. She accepted me, and we were mar- ried. I almost forgot my old rival. Seven happy days passed ; then suddenly Mari- etta became ill. Nothing that I could do would cure her. Oh ! that my mind might have had prescience! Every miserable minute presaged tor- ture in the future. The deed I had perpetrated began to prey upon my mind, and there were times when I thought my brain would snap and leave me a hopeless maniac. It didn ' t; I only wish it had. I watched day and night at her bedside. Mv pa. ion did not abate. I did not eat or sleep. I stayed with her continually. She wasted awav. It was after one particularly strenuous day. Never can I forget those few moments of unutter- able horror — mental pain and physical terror. I must have fallen asleep from sheer fatigue, for I awoke with a start. Marietta was standing beside the bed. I hastily remonstrated and started to rush to her side. I found that I could not touch her. A strange, cold, chilh ' force vibrated around her evanescent form. 1 could not penetrate it. Then it came to me. She was no longer mortal. I was horrified. Then she spoke. ' ' ou killed m - lover, ' she accused, ' ' ' ou will live in an agony of untold fears for the rest of our life. ' Her breath was charged with a current, cold,