Evening High School - Owl Yearbook (Baltimore, MD)

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,Q -. H N. N.-f vw 4 N .-.-. N-ff fw '- vm few -fy N- . r t- as Q s Q Q52 Q Q a 11' H E M M gt T mgmwsasmssmg gmss gmwmgmwmgtagmgstmmmms Volume XII Number 4 Trusting Unto Death By ROBERT MCLAUGHLIN Dusk was enveloping the park that was serving as the temporary home of Caslin's Circus, billed as the Greatest Show on Earth. A mild breeze, carrying a threat of rain, brought relief from the sweltering heat of the day. Lights were beginning to dissipate the darkness. A steady hum, seeming to gain in volume as more and still more people jostled their way into the grounds, rose on the night air. The strange and diverse sounds of caged animals, the cries of vendors hawking their wares, the smell of food, animals, sawfdust, and earth all combined to form that rancid odor characteristic of circuses. All of these things seemed to blanket the park and, for the time being, made it a world apart. The tent, which served as the dressing room for the Flying Flynns, star performers of the show, was similar in appearance to the other tents in the row-a greyish White streaked with brown, caused by rains and frequent contacts with the ground. But tonight an ominous tense' ness seemed to hover above it. The interior of the tent was lighted by four or five unshaded electric bulbs, casting a glaring white light over its occupants. The Flying Flynns were known as the best of aerial artists. John Flynn and his wife, Florence, were ordinarily a happy con- genial couple. Their hazardous occupation had united them more closely than most married people. His humor and wit, coupled with her charming smile and gracious manners, made them Thirty-nine the most liked couple in the show. But tonight none of these things were evident. john, a tall muscular man, was seated on a trunk in the cenf ter of the tent, a black cloak flung over his shoulders and partly covering his red spangled trunks making a strange contrast with his white, drawn face. Suddenly he jumped to his feet and began to pace back and forth, alternately glancing from his wife, who was surveying her' self in the mirror of a dressing table, to the entrance of the big tent, which was visible through the open flap of their tent. Florence Flynn, a tall attractive woman whose raven black hair, olive complexion, and flashing black eyes proclaimed her foreign nationality, turned and admonished her husband. john, please restrain yourself. You are working yourself into a highly nervous state, and after all, dear, tonight of all nights you should have complete control of your emotions, I know! I know! But I keep seeing you fall-twisting and turning. Lord, if that net hadn't been there! Let's call it off for another week? This is only a minor stop of the company and I'm sure Mr. Caslin would consent. john, you have been saying that for three weeks. My falling this afternoon wasn't your fault. I started my swing too late. Your arm is as good as it ever was. It has been four months since you wrenched it and the doctor claims it has healed nicely.