Cochran Junior High School - Yearbook (Johnstown, PA)

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CLASS OFFICERS 26

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COCHRAN AERIAL glimpse of the only doctor in these parts. He was just like his name, and as fat as Arbuckle. He had once been an orderly in a hos- pital up north. From there he went to Kentucky and declared him- self a first-class doctor. He went over to John, felt his head and pulse, listened to his heart. I I-Im, very sick boy, he declared. What do you think we'd better do, Doctor? Mrs. Knuckles asked anxiously. He seemed confused, but finally blurted out, Well, what have you been doing? We have been giving him some of these pills and have been using the lininientf' That's right, that's fine. I couldn't a done much better myself. That medicine is the kind I allus givef, And shall we keep the hot water bottle at his feet? Yes! yes! I was just agoin' to say that. jest keep on a doin' what ya have been and he'll be all right. I-Ie turned and went out of the house without saying another thi11g. What a pity we had driven the mules so far just for the last resort. 1: at A: Pk Oh, Miss Bowman, hurry on bring a lantern up to the Taylors. Jess and his brother were drunk and they got in a fight with the Browns, an' Jess got shot in the toe an' there a gona operate on him. This from a breathless little girl who lived near the Taylors. Miss Bowman grabbed a lamp and some bandage and hurried to the Taylors. It was about eight o'clock at night and when she reached the shack of the Taylors she heard No, no, no! She hurried in the one-roomed house a11d found Jess, a boy of about seventeen, lying o11 the ground and Dr. Little trying to make him drink something out of a cup. Jess was protesting wildly. Dr. Little looked up apologetically at Miss Bowman. Jess won't drink the chloroform. - l But that isn't the way to do it. Put it on a cloth and let h1n1 smell it. Sure, that's the way I was agonna do it if he wouldnlt drink it. ' The room was lighted with one lamp that was on the floor by Dr. Little. The brother in a drunken sleep lay on a dirty cot. You shouldn't leave him on the damp ground, said Miss Bow- man. Dr. Little got up, rolled Iesse's brother over, took the dirty sheet off the bed and put it under Jess. Then he got a rusty razor a11d a plyers and began the operation. His hands were dirty and his hat sat on the back of his head. He began to cut the ski11 off the toe while he tried to hold Jess clown. Miss Bowman poured some ether on some bandage and held it up to Iesse's nose. Soon he was still. Dr. Little went ahead to explain the bullet was lodged in the big toe. By the aid of the razor he had a hole clear through the toe. He then took his plyers and fished the bullet out and held it up triumphantly. He ripped a piece off the sheet and twisted the end, stuck it through the hole and caught both ends of it and sawed it back and forth. By this time, Jess had come out of the chloroform, but the pain was so great that he fainted again. The operation was over and Dr. Little put some paper around the toe. But Miss Bowman insisted on band- aging the toe. Well, now Jess will be all right in a few days and if I come up this way any time I'1l drop in. Strange to say, jess lived, but I don't think it was through Dr. Little's operation. RACHEL VARNER. Ctifty sevenj

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COCI-IRAN AERIAL DOWN THE RIVER If anything happens to this ferry, we're out of luckg for we are right above the falls, said someone pleasantly. It was a gray foggy afternoon in Buffalo. We were waiting for a place on the ferry which was to take us to Canada,-from there we were to continue to Niagara. In half an hour our car finally squeezed on the ferry. The lower deck was jammed Withvehicles. We were flanked by a grocery truck and a Ford from Pennsylvania. Our bumper extended under the fender of a Lincoln ahead. A bell rang, the gang plank was drawn in, the moorings were cast off and the boat started across the rough water. A small motor boat shot by. Far up- stream, tugs and dredges were at work. On shore again everyone had a good laugh when a large Irish- man mistook a small English chauffeur for a custom officer. We left the custom house with a damaged fender. The English flag floated out red against the gray sky. The road followed the river very closely. A fine mist was rising from the water and covered the wind-shield. A few shambling houses bordered the river. Skiffs and canoes floated in front of these abodes. Beyond the park around the road I could see an overgrown, uncultivated country. The river di- vided and widened into a broad basin. Jack bet I couldn't swim across it. He was right but I didn't say so. Frequently large mansions ap- peared among the trees on the American side. A white yacht glided from a cove and started to tack up the river. The downcast sky was reflected in the smooth water. We passed thru a small village and crossed a large creek. On the creek men were unloading some blunt nosed scows. A houseboat swung at anchor in mid-stream. A small flotilla of motor boats were warped to the pier. Small craft of every variety lined the shore. The river had now united and was rushing on at a terrific speed. The roar of the distant falls boomed above, the swirl of the rapids. A bank of spray indicated the falls. We had a glimpse of the shredded wheat factory across the water. We stopped to look at the large turbines in the power plant. A barge was stranded in the rapids, and below it a small lake steamer was wrecked. A quaint old monastery, perched on a hill, was silhouetted against the fading light. We arrived at the falls as the lights in Niagara began to twinkle. WILLIAM WESNER, Term VIII. 10 THE OLE SWIMMIN' HOLE Looking down from the old covered bridge I saw it. There it was, a cool wide space of rippling water under an overhanging oak tree, whose long branches reached to the surface of the water. The bright blue sky was reflected in the clear cold water. Its depth was about six feet but on the sandy bottom were sharp stones, pebbles and water weeds. Swiftly on the surface of the water long-legged mosquitoes and insects darted across. Suddenly a minnow came to the edge of the pool and then darted away. Down a crooked path, where pointed stones shot up, and on which many a toe had bee11 stubbed, trotted a group of barefooted boys. On all sides, hidden among the brushes, patches of cow-itch sprung up. Down into the old blue hole they went. Last feller in gets a derned good duckin. There was a scramble of feet, shouts of laughter, while clothes, one piece at a time, were being thrown roughly on the mud trodden path. Splash! They plunged into the cold blue water. The tapping of a woodpeceker on a locust tree nearby could be heard distinctly. One last duckg all out! Last fellow dressed got ter treat. OLGA AND GRACE HENNING, Term VIII. Ctifty ninej