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Page 66 text:
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64 I). M. C. I. BREEZES EVAN-YOUNG WARRIOR Adventure and Romance many a car droned by on the gravel-road that ran on the margin of Mystery River. At night the dancing head-lights gave to Arch¬ man’s farm buildings and the surrounding bush, weird, moving, shape¬ less shadows, jagged-edged. When his brother went courting Sail} ' , Evan would sometimes seat himself upon a huge rock that topped the river-bank, and there he would watch the shadows. On this particular night, it was very dark. The white house loomed like a majestic ghost. A man, it appeared, flitted around the whitest corner. The distant heavens sparkled and mumbled and the b oy knew that a storm was coming—and was coming fast. Soon streaks of light¬ ning illumined the farmyard and what did the young warrior see? A man crouching against the barn? Yes, Evan knew it well. As this precocious lad pressed the bottom of his bare foot on the stone moss, he felt a strange warm shiver of adventure pass through the whole of his youthful body. He turned and daringly slid down the smooth, sloping side of the huge rock that faced the river. He had often done that, imagining he was about to enter into a hazardous enterprise. At the base of the immense stone, the river yawned widely. As the boy picked up his brother’s gun and flashlight, which he had borrowed to give realism to his fancied adventures, he wondered what made ’him feel so tall, so brave, and so strong tonight. It never occurred to him it might be the love he had for his brother Arnold. A few minutes later, the boy, who was a “dozen years of age.” as he would say, was lightly running through the woods. The only man lie knew that might mean evil was Bull Button. Button had sometime before fought a losing fight with Evan’s brother and had promised revenge. Evan certainly admired his brother for having been so brave. He admired all courageous men. What troubled him most, however, was that he knew not how to capture the culprit. Suddenly he fur¬ iously kicked a tree, personified it, and performed a hold-up, leaving the elm as the storm broke forth. The wind moaned and howled and tore at the leaves and bent young maples into parabolic curves. Lightning and swift-driven rain made vision difficult, and thunder pounded montonously against his ears. Nature contributed in a thousand ways to give the lad a glamorous thrill, so that he was glad to sit on a stone when he reached the barn. Evan wiped his freckled face with his sleeve and panted hard and half turned his face to shelter it from the wind. It was lucky for him he did, for in the light from the white jagged lines in the sky, he saw low-crouched, very near him, with a kerosene can in his hand, the tyrant, Buff Buffon. The first impulse was to shoot the man; but, on second thought, he deemed it wiser to try to hold with the gun. the sneak who planned destruction by fire. But could he do it? He set all
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Page 65 text:
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D. M. C. I. BREEZES 63 X.K—ROOM 15 President, Nora Archibald; Vice-President, Irene Marshall; Secre¬ tary, Dorothy Davis; Sports Captain, Mona Smyth; Edith Anderton, Phyllis Baird, Annie Bell, Lillian Bentham, Marguerite Bryan, Georgina Care, Irene Cutforth, Aurora Delman, Maisie Flemming, Margaret Hill, Florence Holmes, Thelma Hudson, Vivian Jones, Jessie Joscely, Madge Lyon, Ruth Mainer, Irene Marshall, Beatrice Matthews, Marjorie Mc¬ Lennan, Eileen Muir, Margaret Norrie, Thora Olson, Doris Patrick, Isla Pearson, Grace Smith, Henrietta Thompson, Ellen Turner, Louise Warren, Betty Woodgate. -■- X.L—ROOM 49 President, Hubert Taylor; Secretary, Irene McNutt; Sports Cap¬ tain, Martin Bell; Marjorie Allen, Gladys Callegaro, Shirley Clapham, Margaret Cole, Muriel Collins, Dorothy Cranston, Betty de Wet, Flor¬ ence Eden, Verna Finlay, Eleanor Fulkerson, Corrine Greengard, Clara Grundy, Rhoda Hibburt, Grace Hoskins, Freda Leitner, Marjorie Marks, Hilda Miller, Elsie Plumeridge, Mae Ruxton, Hilda Testar, Florence Thomas, Genevra Whitaker, George Burlington, Bruce Far- quharson, Clarence Folson, Alfred Goddard, Alex. Shaddy, James Sims, Barney Stanick, Alex Stewart, Aubrey Walton. TO A LOST AIRMAN He is not dead—but wingeth Over a Happier sea. He is not mute—but singeth A lovelier melody Than we could know. He is not sad—but daily Rejoices in new life. He is not lost— ' but gaily Forgets our human strife In ecstacy. He is not cold—hut heedeth A warmer love of truth. He is not lonely—but leadeth The joyous Legion of Youth, The Brave. He is not still—but neareth The swiftest in the chase. He is not deaf—but heareth The sound a rainbow makes In harmony. He knows not defeat—but reaches The victory of the brave. He conquers himself, and teaches All nature to be his slave, Tho’ rebellious. Then, while the urge is warm And youth’s blood running fast, We’ll soar beyond all harm And reach the Heights at last, Triumphant. —Cherry Crawford, 58,
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Page 67 text:
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D. M. C. I. BREEZES 65 his young muscles in a vice. His heart beat fast and his throat hard¬ ened. The wind whistled fearfully. As the brilliant rays that shone from the powerful flashlight blind¬ ed the criminal, he saw nothing but a gun dazzling in the beams; and he turned about as a small rotating hand directed. There was a tran¬ sient light again. “March,” cried the lad in a voice like that of his good, brave brother; but the man remained stolid. “March!” repeated the expectant yet doubtful youth, jabbing the man’s back with the gun. Bull responded this time and walked past the house to the highway. The wind lessened and so did Evan’s strength. Since the storm had subsided to a considerable extent, a horse not far away in the blurring darkness, now slowly and mechanically picked its way along the highway. It was drawing a buggy in which were Sally and Arnold. These occupants apparently were paying no attention to what Arnold had often before styled a “handy” animal. Sally was the first to notice the peculiar movements some distance ahead of them. “What’s that, Arnold?” she said wonderingly. Evan’s brother looked. He sprang lightly from the buggy, and leaving Sally in charge, ran down the road to secure a better view. “Can it be Buffon?” he said to himself. A few seconds later he re¬ ceived his life’s greatest surprise; Evan was steering Buffon with a gun and flashlight. By this time the young warrior, weakened by fear, was rapidly be¬ coming helpless, and when a small whirlwind struck him, he toppled into the road-ditch, and thumped on the ground. As the lightning flamed again, Buffon saw the limped body collapse, and cursed himself that his plans should have been so trifled with by a youngster. Now this self-killed person would tell, and the plans would fail! Yet, there was a way out of it, he would throw the body into the river; then again, thought he, the water pools would be more convenient, for they would save time. If the boy drowned, people would believe he fell there; if he lived, well, he would take that chance. Then with shaking hands the criminal laid the lad in a pool, imag¬ ining the rumbling thunder of the past storm to he voices railing against him ; and he climbed upon the road and made to run. “Halt! you coward!” It was Arnold’s voice this time, and Buffon knew it well, for he fell on his knees on the highway, his hands up- stretched and his face turned to the heavens that flashed in the dis¬ tance ; and he moaned prayers. The wind now ran in caressing currents. Evan had had a good night’s sleep, considering what he had passed through. He was now comfortably seated in a luxurious Chesterfield reading the “Battle of Waterloo.” His handsome brother had just come in the ear from town, where he had been all night on account of Buffon; and as he entered the room he had an envy of Evan’s comfort, hut it did not deter him from praising his child brother. “Well, old fellow,” he began, and continued enthusiastically, “you are the bravest of chums! You have saved me financially as well as
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