Cleveland High School - Legend Yearbook (Portland, OR)

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BERBER, arms up througli the t raiii. It ' s a wonder oii had the presence of mind to shut off the helt. He h)()ked across at Mulh ' s face, the onh ' pro truding representative of the hlond ' s emotion. Mul- l5 ' ' s small hlue eyes hlinked rapidly like startled beacons on the background of his chalky face. With full realization the eyes shifted like a cowardly, slinking coyote ' s from this object to that. Silence reigned, for the astounding shock had produced a decided effect upon our blond Colossus ' frame and had silenced his loquacity for the time being. An eternity of w aiting ensued. D ' Orvan thought of the watch and looked at it. Only five minutes left! There was one chance in ten that Ramus would miss them and begin searching. MulU ' fol- lowed Louis ' glance. He passed his parched tongue over his huge blanched lips. With clenched fists he rained a torrent of iolent beatings upon the merciless grain. It held him prisoner. Eloquent curses sailed from his lips straight at their target, D ' Orvan, and rebounded with elasticit . The Frenchman shut his eyes and waited. Do something, ou fool, screamed Mull . Can ' t you see ' m dying! His sobs blended rythmically with the distant chug of the engine two stories below. Can ' t you pray led D ' Orvan impatiently. God helps those who help themselves, Alully. Maybe your Bible will help you now, eh what? Only one minute! A shrill whistle pierced the air. It was the signal to begin running through the new load of wheat. D ' Orvan smiled. He shut his eyes and waited — calm, peaceful. Dust to dust ; ashes to ashes. Over and over again the words ran through his mind like the ceaseless wheels of destiny ' s machine. A sudden shiver marked the momentary peep back into the past, and all was calm again. He felt a merciful, restful oblivion. Could tlii be a foreboding of death. ' Dust to dust; ashes to— Here, get yourselves out of there quick! shouted someone from above. It was Ramus with a welcome rope in his hands. Mully stared upward steadiK as Ramus tied one end of the rope to the beam, and when the foreman swung out the other end, Mully was the first to catch it. In spite of his excess of avoirdupois he had hoisted himself up and over the edge of the bin in quicker time than it takes to tell it. Without a w ord or backward glance, he vanished down the ladder. Soon D ' Or- van was safely on the plank again. As he turned to go he was conscious of a distant rush. He paused, one foot in the first rung of the ladder, and listened intently as the rush changed to a roar. His gaze riveted on two hollow places in the low-er section. The next moment the oncoming wheat rushed with terrific momentum upon two queer indentations, and soon all traces of the recent im- prisonment had vanished. » » » » It was morning again. D ' Orvan stood before the window of the cabin contemplating his own individual insignificance in Dame Nature ' s plan of beautiful scenery. Mully shut his Bible, arose from his chair, and advanced a step. Louis, mark my words, he began. I hope that what happened yesterday will be a lesson to you. You weren ' t prepared because you wouldn ' t read the Bible. I was prepared and — A withering look from the Frenchman checked the speech, and the rest of it was lost in incoherent mutterings. There are times when variations are verv welcome. And now, D ' Orvan smiled with relief. At least, Mully had changed his original speech ! SUNSET HiLDRED Atkinson The setting sun has painted the sky A gorgeous glowing gold. With magic brush that ' s held on high The setting sun has painted the sky Just when night is drawing nigh. Lake armor in days of old The setting sun has painted the sky A gorgeous glowing gold. Page 26

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-= U5PBUI TRIAL OF A COLOSSUS Katherixe Sawatsky Second Prize Cradled in a hollow of the rocking plains lay Oskeg, Pro ince of Saskatchewan, Canada — a vil- lage one mile square, no more, no less. Surrounded by salt-peter marshes, low brown treeless hills, and jagged ravines, the old town lay basking in the hot summer sun of an early morning in the year 1916. All around — north, south, east, and west — stretched the monotonous billowing prairie, Louis D ' Orvans ' native land, ending in an unchanging horizon of dark earth and blue sky. It was a calm, peaceful scene that D ' Orvan looked upon from the window of his cabin. But a frown furrowed his forehead. He was anticipat- ing a distasteful familiar event. The slight, dark French-Canadian was waiting for MuUy, his huge blond comrade, to deliver an habitual daily ora- tion. The speech was usually monotonous, and therefore, Louis welcomed every variation in his comrade ' s pious reproofs. Soon Mully got up from the table where he had been poring over the contents of the Bible. Louis, mark my words, began Mully with a gruff hem and haw. Ef you don ' t begin to read the Holy book pretty soon, you ' ll ne er see heaven. Instead of readin ' the Bible every mornin ' and evenin ' like I do, you stand and look at them funny bumps of land out there. I ' m a-warnin ' you now. It ' s only religious people as die peaceful and easy like. In answer D ' Orvan beckoned silenth to Mully to follow, and they went out to their daily work at the grain elevator just two blocks from the cabin. All the foregoing procedure had been a part of each day ' s curriculum ever since Mully had suc- cumbed to the wiles of a passing evangelist ten years ago. As they approached the weighing platform of the elevator. Ramus, the foreman, came quickly forward to meet them. D ' Orvan, something ' s wrong with the scoop belt in the lower section of the main bin, third floor. Take Mully with you and repair it in a hurry. We ' re going to run up a new carload of wheat in an hour from now. D ' Or an nodded, picked up some tin, hammer, and nails, and entered the first floor of the elevator with Mully following him closely. Here the at- mosphere was charged with the deafening rattle, chug, and clank of the big twenty-four horsepower steam engine that propelled the long scoop belt up to the third floor and then down again to the basement bins. Mully went to the engine, pulled out a lever, and stopped the scoop belt. Amid the shouts of warning from their fellow workers who were busy with the hoppers and fanning mills, the two ascended the rude ladder to the third floor. Every man in the elevator knew the danger of going to the upper floor grain bin. One slip o er the edge would send the unfortunate one into the deep grain where the continued downpour of wheat would completely ' co er him in ten minutes ' time and suffocate him. L ' pon reaching the top, Louis crossed the narrow plank over the huge bin to the lower section with the agility of a mountain goat. But Mully eyed the plank doubtfulh ' . Come over and hang your watch on that nail so we can tell when to quit, said D ' Orvan from where he stood with one foot on a beam and the other foot on the plank. Mully gingerly shuffled his way across, and after several attempts, put his right foot against the beam to steady himself and hung up the watch. But now, Mully ' s most difficult problem was to get back to normal position. With his usual lack of precision he calculated the distance from his foot to the plank, and stepped wide of the mark. Wildly waving his arms to regain his balance, MuUy clutched at D ' Orvan as a last resort. The sudden impact precipitated both of them into the grainy sea of wheat, and two sickly thuds marked the end of the headlong flight. Fool! What did you do that for? exclaimed D ' Orvan in anger as he wriggled his head and Page 25

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UJP!S3tR The First Kiss Lucille Dodson Futility Fave Howe Second Prize Mist on the water Drifted blue, Silver-srey starlight Sifted through, Music flowing Like liquid wine Dripped with the throb Of ' our lips on mine. Crisp crags that blotted out the blue Were steps of a laddered way Which I sought to climb like a dream-mad elf To learn what old stars sav. I climbed and climbed up the rocky path. And the sky vas still, and the sea; Till ;vorn with struggle I gained the top — But the stars were no nearer to me. The Quest of the Thistle- Do vvn Fave Howe 1 ' irst Prize I love a road that runs along Like lyric cadence of a song. I love the water, mirror-topped. Where shore-lined images have dropped. And star-swept wastes of tumbled sea Have a salt-sweet tang that calls to me. I want to go with a violin Down the ribbon-road where the sun rides in And ushers dawn, in ecstacy. To a dew-dashed world that is gay and free. Oh I long to tread the gypsy road. Follow the thistle-down, leaving my load Of sorrow and burdening duties behind, And roam the earth like a restless wind. Oh sometime I ' ll leave my troubles and go To the land where a honey-sweet moon swings low Over mountain village and seaport town On the ageless quest of the thistledown. Derision Siegfried Rosen Vbere er I may be roaming. The moon peers in my face. She stares like a kind old lady. Wrapped in her wind-blown lace. She thinks that she knows my dreaming, And what the years foretell ; So she follows me with her gleaming. And lures me with her spell. Her eager fingers unravel The threads about her throat; She ' d give her years of travel To hear my unsung note. But the secret of mine is hidden Beneath a brimming well. And I laugh at the miles she ' s ridden To lure me with her spell. Page 27