Erskine Academy - Pinnacle Yearbook (South China, ME)

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THE X ' TT PINNACLE Wf W f K 3 '-' 65 ffl: Three generations had sought for it with po avail.

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L. X . Q. x lm., A THE PINNACLE 3 Lf ' if? ,iv O ' I I I f Qfal' ,. sf-...fs .w 'i .sr THE BLUE BOY. For nearly a century the Blue Boy had hung over the fireplace in the library of the Grosvenor Manor at Carnelworth. Young Duke Grosvenor, owner of the large estate, loved to sit before the cheerful fire and gaze at the Blue Boy, who always seemed to be smiling down on him. During the last week Grosvenor had seemed sad and depressed. Some great anxiety was weighing on his heart. He had just lost all of his vast wealth in bad investments. The Carleton Deep Mines in South America, in which he held thou- sands of dollars Worth of stock, had proved utterly worthless. All his inheritance lay in these stocks. Now he had nothing but his beautiful home. Indeed it would bring him a large sum of money on the market, enough to enable him to live comfortably the rest of his life, but must he sell Gros- venor Manor, the home of his ancestors? No, no, he could not do that, but how was he to obtain money to keep such a large house running, and also keep himself in the social world? All these things passed through his head. He had racked his brain for an answer to the problem, but now he knew none could be found. He had put the old house on sale and with a heavy heart, he sank into his large comfortable chair before the fire, to en- joy his last evening at home, which after tomorrow would be his no longer. He picked up a book lying on the table, en- titled, The Earls of Grosvenor. Listless- ly he read chapters here and there. What was this! The Grosvenor Treasure. Oh, yes, he had heard his father and grand- father speak of it many a time as lost. Three generations of Grosvenors had sought for it with no avail. Now it was a thing of the past. Closing the book he laid it aside, and turned toward the fire. How cheerful it was, crackling and glow- ing as if nothing had happened. 'Tho flames turned, and leaped, casting rippling shadows over the room. He glanced at the Blue Boy, who smiled at him. How could he be so happy? He would have to go with the house the next day. Grosvenor hated the thought of parting with him. More than a score of times he had been offered thousands of dollars for the famous old painting, but for some reason it seemed attached to him. The Blue Boy smiled more than usual this evening of all even- ings. Why! he was really moving, with his feathered cap in his handg he stepped from the picture to the mantle, and thence to the fioor, coming to a stand beside Grosvenor's chair. Don't be sad, he said, extending his hand, your career has not yet ended. Listen to qmy story- One hundred and fifty years ago, I was painted, as you know, by the famous Gainsborough. What a picture I made! A few years after I was sold to George, Prince of Wales, then was bought later by Earl Grosvenor, your great-grandfather. It was a large sum he paid for me, but what of that, didn't he have millions beside an uncornparable treasure? He built this magnificent iireplace, especially to hang me over and above all, for a reason that no one in this world knows except me. There I have hung untouched for nearly

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L P 7 THE PINNACLE 5 a century. Now the time has come for me to bring forth my secret, that I have so carefully guarded all these years. Behind the upper left hand corner of my gold frame you will find a tiny spring. Press this and-3' Bang! a door slammed in the library. Duke Grosvenor rubbed his eyes, the Blue Boy was no longer beside him but was smiling down on him from his frame, as unconcerned as ever. Grosvenor felt very strange. He recalled every word of the Blue Boy's story. Could it be that the long forgotten treasure had been revealed to him in such a miraculous manner and was at that moment concealed behind the painting? It was a foolish affair of course, but he would look just the same. He slowly rose from his chair and moved it before the fire. Stepping onto this he reached up to the left hand corner of the gold frame. He could scarcely believe himself on seeing a tiny spring concealed there. He pressed this and the Blue Boy moved slowly aside, revealing a small door in the wall. This proved very hard to open as it had remained closed for years, but Grosvenor succeeded at last. The door swung open revealing a large cavity in the wall. Here were laid many bags, rotting with age. As Grosvenor picked up one of these the bottom dropped out. What a sight! Diamonds, rubies and other prec- ious stones came rolling out, glittering in the firelight. The Blue Boy has saved my home and happiness, murmured Duke Grosvenor as he lifted shining eyes to the smiling face on the canvas. DOROTHY FARNSWORTH, '23. WEAVER'S UTILITY SATCHEL. When the train came into Hilton from New York, one summer day, a passenger stepped off. He took his satchel and valise and went over to the restaurant across from the station where he had dinner and 'checked his baggage. The casual observer saw a young man of about twenty-five years of age, tall and well built, with light hair and steel-grey eyes. He looked like a young man just out of college, but Ned Weaver had a past, and one that had been full of strange happenings. X X Ned Weaver was a crook, whom the New York authorities had been trying to get for some years. He was not a com- mon person but of the highest class. He was a safe breaker. Many a corporation's safe had been blown open, the contents taken and not a clue left. The police of nearly every large city in the state of New York were anxious to get their hands on him, but it was useless. They at last ap- pealed to Washington, and Detective His- ler, the shrewdest man in the Secret Ser- vice had been sent. Weaver's last job at Albany had not been done so smoothly as the others and Hisler's suspicions had been fastened on him. Weaver decided to take a rest from his labors and incidently to throw Hisler off his track. Therefore on the advice of a friend, he bought a ticket for Hilton, Iowa. After a good meal, he walked out of the restaurant and sauntered down the main street to look over the city, that was to be his for a time. Hilton was a small 'city with a popula- tion of about fifteen 'thousand with sev- eral industries located on the Messon river, and on the direct railroad line to San Francisco. Weaver walked leisurely through the streets, and, turning a corner, came face to face with a young girl. She was of medium height, dark cornplexioned, large, soft brown eyes and a clear skin. Weaver caught his breath. He had seen many pretty girls, but not one had inter- ested him as this one did. He was too well bred to turn and stare after her, but he did want to know who she was. He looked around and seeing a young boy, went over to him and asked who she was. The boy replied that she was Flor- ence Curtis, and after this information, held out his hand. Weaver understood and taking out a handful of pennies dealt them out one by one, asking questions in the meanwhile. When his stock of pennies had gone, he