Clifton High School - Rotunda Yearbook (Clifton, NJ)

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“Did you get Mister Charlin’s consent or did you steal him?” The last was brought out so emphatically that it frightened Jim. “Stole’em ; expenses for moving $500,” mumbled Jim. “Kh, I thought so. ou see. I’m Mr. Charlin,” the stranger ieplied. “Arrest this man and try to round up his gang. I’ll buy this animal back for $4000. You see he’s educated and was my little boy’s pet. That probably accounts for the fact that those two get along so well. Probably they are pals too.” The last few state- ments were almost sad. 1’im had been listening to all this conversation and now when he heard that hippo was going away he burst into sobs. “Oh, don’t send my hippo away. He’s mine. Oh, please don’t Mister.” Streams of tears made their muddy way down Tim’s cheeks. Mr. Charlin entered the cage. “Little boy I won’t take him away from you. You see I need a little boy like you. My little boy is dead, and you remind me of him. Would you like to come and live with hippo and me?” This time Tim’s big brown eyes lifted up joyously. “Da ya mean it sir? You’re sure you—you want me?” “I sure do want you little man and let’s start now.” “Allright,” assented Tim and then patting hippo’s nose, he cried, “Ya see hip, we’re still pals.” The happy boy waved a goodbye, for a time, to the hippo and then sHpped the other smudgy one into Mr. Charlin’s hand. With tears in his eyes and a happy smile on his face, he looked up into Mr. Charlin’s eyes and said—“hippo and you an’ me, we’re all pals, ain’t we?” RUTH M. SMITH 2-1 eleven

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“Tim, you fool youngster, you unfastened the cage.’' 1 im’s father grabbed him up and beat him unmercifully. The other men were too excited to take any notice of little Tim, and so he was left to the mercy of his father. “Oh, father, don’t, don’t, father! You’re hurting your little Tim1’ “Serves ya right.” Tim’s pleas were to no avail and Jim did not let him go until he was ready. Then he let 1 im drop, exhausted to the ground. Meanwhile the men were having a good chase after hippo. Hippo had scared a good many people. He had trampled the beautiful gar- dens until they were not tit to be seen, and last of all, he refused to be caught. The police and all the attendants were having a wild chase. “He cannot be caught, impossible,” one attendant roared. “Haven’t any cf ya an idear how to git him back into the cage'? I here was silence for a time. “Please, sir, I have,” a weak little voice took everyone by surprise. “I guess hippo don’t like my father. Hippo’ll chase him if pa 11 come out a that shed.” A dirty finger pointed to the keeper’s hiding place. “Keeper’s fault, most likely. Here, you two, go get Jim.” and the commander’s voice continued softer, “How’d you know, lad'? “I—I—I don’t know.” Tim was afraid his father might hear and so he hobbled over to the cage. Grumbling, Jim was brought and put in sight of the animal. At once the animal started at full speed toward him. Jim ran on toward the cage crying, “How’ll I git out alive? Save me!” “Don’t be afraid, pa, I’ll see as he don’t hurt you.” Tim followed his father into the cage and then when the hippo quickly followed, I im went over to the animal, stood on the feed trough and patted the creat- ure’s nose. “Run, pa, run, an close the door ahind ya.” Jim did this without a thought of what would happen to his son. Strange to say, the hippo only closed his eyes as if he were enjoying (he episode. There stood the pals, with a throng outside watching the strange events. Mumbles arose. “It must be him, John, yes, it must be, no other hippo would love a little boy like that.” A wel dressed man came up to Bill the head keeper of the Zoo. “Can you give the history of this animal ?” “Yes sir. He was brought to us by that man.” Jim was brought up, held by the collar- “Where or how he got him we do not know. Can you explain Jim?” “Well, me pals and me bought him off Charlin’s Grounds, las year from Charlin’s keeper. We bought hippo for $500 and sold’em to ’•ou for $3000.” ten

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A VACATION EXPERIENCE OF LONG AGO. VERYTHING had gone wrong. William Meyers and I had the camping fever, but our parents would not allow us to go away to the woods. So we determined finally to camp within boundaries. One day, while resting under the big tree in the hedge, we suddenly hit upon an idea, and commenced work at once. We rolled some large rocks into a circular wall about three feet high, resembling a snow fort. Over the rocks we laid a roof of green branches just cut from a wild cherry tree which formed a post and sup- ported our wall in one place. We packed mud in between the crevices, and built a door of canvas which was fastened down with pegs w'hen we were inside. We then began digging out the ground in the fort. When down about a foot, we had already decided on the name of our fort; the rocks were so numerous that we could hardly have helped naming our camp “Fort Rock.” When the digging was finished, the hole was about four feet deep. We were now very enthusiastic. By nailing blocks of wood to the tree, we were able to ascend easily, and look around. We built a fire- place in one corner and had a secret hiding place to keep matches in, though every time a fire was needed the matches were wet. But neither of us cared; we were still enthusiastic. A string was stretched around the outside of the fort, about five fee from the outer edge of the wall. One end we attached to a tree, while the other we fastened to a rusty cowbell. Thus no one could come near without notifying us. We were still enthusiastic. We had two troubles. Our fire smoked too much for comfort, and the spiders in the roof of the branches wefe too familiar. One day the roof, which was now dry and brittle, caught fire and was completely demolished. We never took the trouble to rebuild it, but we w’ere nevertheless still enthusiastic. Summer wore on, and the fort was forgotten. One day, my mother asked me to dig a garbage hole for her. William Meyers, who was with me, whisnered something in my ear, and I answered my mother, “Use Fort Rock.” Thus ended our camping, lost our enthusiasm. Some way or other, we seemed to have HAROLD BROWN 1-2.