Conneaut High School - Tattler Yearbook (Conneaut, OH)

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8 THE TATTLER This gave the three a chance of escape and they made the best of it. Running through the snow without snow shoes is hard work but they reached a tall tree and began scaling it. The last man 'had just reached the bottom limb when the wolf, diverted from his meal, made a spring for him. It was a close call for the wolf missed his mark only by a hair’s breadth. “Jumping geese quills, but that was a close one,” yelled Shorty, but where’s that dog?’’ “I’ll bet he’s gone to camp,” cried the lumberman. “Hell git a bunch o’ the byes out here but’ll take quite a spell,—say, did you see that?” This last exclamation was caused by a form coming toward them at top speed. “Hey, Shorty, where are you?” the form cried. “Right here Bill,” answered Shorty, “but for the love of Mike climb a tree. There is wolves here by the barrel. Where did you beat it? we’ve needed you.” “Well,” answered his breathless comrade, “that Indian got away from me and I chased him until he finally shook me. I was a fool leaving you all alone with that ruffian,” pointing towards the big lumberman in the branches with Shorty. “Well, I guess I’m high enough to be out of reach now. I heard those wolves and 'was desperate and started back at full speed, and here I am.” “By gum. I b'lieve we owe our lives to that dorg—” “What dog?” asked Will. “Why,” exclaimed Shorty, “a big dorg blew in from somewhere an’ fit all of them wolves while we strolled to this tree.” “That dog,” exclaimed the lumberman, “came with that bloomin’ Injun an’ me—by gar,” he exploded. “A bunch of those wolves must o’ followed him away from here because there is only about half of them here now. It will sure be some race to camp fer that dog, but I gues6 he can outrun ’em.” Darkness had set'in and the tree occupants were fast asleep when suddenly a loud bark broke the stillness and a powerful dog leaped into view. Then a half dozen lumbermen came running behind. The lumberman’s guilt was not exposed, at Shorty’s request, and so it is that, when enemies meet in a death grapple, new danger will make them friends. HARRISON ANDREWS, ’17. A MEXICAN TALE. For many years Pedro Lopes had farmed a few rugged acres on the slopes of the Sierre Madre. His claim had been undisturbed until a rich mining prospector came along and discovered gold along the foot hills. Soon Pedro was ousted from his farm and rather than leave the straw thatched hut which he called home, he consented to work in the mines as an ordinary peon for two pesos a week. On this he hardly lived, as besides his wife there was a son, Juan, and food was scarce and hard to get. The years passed until Juan was ten years old. Then the wife sickened and died and Pedro, heart broken, buried her at the foot of the mountain with a stately palm standing sentinel over her grave.

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C. .1. FHEW, The Florist, State. St. Phone 1281 i me money.” “You'll have to fight for it.” cried Shorty, who had edged to a right angle where Bill stood. As Shorty uttered his last exclamation the red skin turned in his direction and Will lunged toward him, grasping the rifle as he did so. The Indian shrieked out a cry of rage and a fight for dear life commenced. Shorty would have assisted his friend but another cry came from behind and he wheeled into another foe. Will's combatant was less powerful than himself but he clung to the rifle with a grip like iron, now trying to get the muzzle toward his foe, now trying to wrench it from his grasp. Three times shots went into the air but found no marks except the trunks of nearby trees. Shorty was having ‘‘quite a lively time” as he put it. His foe was armed but not with a gun, a knife. When Shorty had turned on him, it was so unexpected that the weapon had only grazed hi6 shoulder, and he grabbed the wielder’s wrist. The latter was not an Indian, however, but a lumberman from Wolf River Camp. Both men were six-footers and it was an even struggle until by a dextrous movement Shorty tripped his combatant and both went heavily to the ground with the trapper on top. Shorty shot a glance to where he had last seen his friend and the Indian, but where were they? There was no sign of either anywhere about. In their place were two other combatants, two strong sinewy forms, snarling, snapping, swaying back and forth like demons. It was a wolf and a powerful mastiff dog. Then another form shot out of the underbrush and another. The two men now saw the new danger and Shorty’s enemy begged to be freed. “N'ow if you'll beat it,” cried Shorty, “and not try any more o’ your funny work. I’ll excuse you this time. Now promise me.” “I’ll -promise you nothing,” snarled the lumberman, but let me up. ’ “Well, I guess if you kin stan’ it to be chewed, 1 can.” “Eff you’ll let me go, I’ll let you be,” cried the lumberman, finally submitting rather than to be “chewed up” as Shorty had termed it. But there w-as no time left for conversation for a lithe form darted toward them. Shorty sprang to his feet and struck the beast with one of his heavy boots, for his snow shoes had fallen off during the struggle. The boot caught the beast just below- the jaw and sent him snarling backw-ards. By this time the lumberman had gained his feet. Sho-ty elt a tap on his shoulder and made ready to spring again on his foe, but his intentions were interrupted by,—“You an’ me’ve had it out an’ you licked an’ 'we’ll call it square if you’re willin’. If we have to die let's die fighting side by side like men.” “That we’ll do, you bet,” cried Shorty, “but look out, here comes that beast back again.” As he uttered the latter words he grasped h 's until now forgotten revolver, drew it and fired almost into the mouth of the animal. A howl of pain followed and a dead wolf lay at the trapper’s feet. “Quick, cr the dcg’ll be giving out! Head right straight into that bunch,” he yelled, as he started tow-ard a group of snapping wolves with a powerful mastiff in their midst who had already laid out two of his enemies. But the dog w-as getting tired now and this the men saw. The faithful beast had saved their lives and now it was their turn to save his. The wohes scattered and seeing the bodies of their dead comrades began feasting.

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C. I'RKW, The Florist, State St. Phone 1281 !l Life was very dreary to little Juan who sometimes assisted his father in the mines. One night after the evening meal Juan brought forward a bag of stones which he proceeded to form into the semblance of a wall. When a glitter caught the eye of Pedro, he examined the stones and found some were nuggets of almost pure gold and by questioning Juan he soon found where plenty of these golden nuggets might be found. Realizing their value in a measure and also that they would never be of any use to him in this country, he suddenly recalled what a man had told him of the United States where a common man might own vast acres. After thinking over all this the next day, that night their few belongings were packed and with the gold nuggets were carefully strapped to the back cf Pedro and leading little Juan, they started northward for the far distant United States, traveling by night to escape the boiling rays of the sun. Many days and nights passed with only a few tropical fruits for food. Weary and worn the travelers finally reached Chihuahua where a small nugget procured food. Never having seen a railroad train and ignorant of the world the rail road was not looked u] on as a direct means of travel, and as a help only t mark the road in the direction in which he desired to travel. T o weeks passed be ore the wandering travelers reached El Paso where they had heard the promised land began. This city had no attractions for Pedro and wandering to the northward he came upon the owner of a sheep ranch, who had but recently murdered an Indian helper and who was mighty glad to exchange his ranch for nuggets and leave the country. The summer of 1S92 was marked by a drought in the southwest par of the United States. Everything w’as scorched by the sun’s rays and but little pasturage was to be found at this time. The Brown Stock Company, a large concern composed mostly of eastern millionaires who numbered their cattle hv the million, had a number of herds grazing through the valley of the Rio Grande in central New Mexico. As the drought increased the sheep and goats of Pedro crowded farther into the valley away from the foo: hills. This soon led to conflict with the Brown Stock Company and, as any one knows, enmity always exists between cattle and sheep men in the west for the cattle will not graze where sheep have been. As the Stock Company’s cattle came down the valley they were seen by Juan, who was now sole guardian of the sheep as his father lay on his bed of straw’ nearly con sumed by fever. Hate arose in the boy’s heart as he realized the danger to his flock and thought o' what his father had already suffered at the hands of the Mexican government. This seemed merely a repetition. Being helpless he could do nothin T, but soon a lone horseman could be seen riding in his direction whose identity was no other than the young son of J. P. Morgan, w'hose father had sent him on a western trip for his health and to look into his vast financial interests. Although a typical cowboy in appearnce, vet he was kind at heart, and w’hen he saw poor little Juan so neglected looking and so faithfully guarding his father’s flocks he was touched and kindly approached him. Juan soon told him of his great trouble concerning his father and together they