Evening High School - Owl Yearbook (Baltimore, MD)

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THE OWL say with a note of surprise, Sure enough. Well, I'll be! Don't you remember me, Mahaney? I don't believe I do, suh, he replied. 115th Division, Infantry B, I suggested to him. Gee, I know, he blurted, Captain Peters, and at this he reached out his right hand to meet mine. Yeah, I softly enlightened him in a sarf castic manner. Well, you sure have changed a lot 'Cap'. So've you, Mahaney. Remember those ter' rible days in France? Yeah, he answered, I think it was a great old war, everything from the women to the crap games. Remember that machine gun nest that our outht cleared out? Mahaney stopped here. He never was the kind who boasted or looked for praise. How' ever, I continued for him. L'And I was felled by enemy bullets and left for dead and who came along but good old Mahaney. Gee, I guess I owe you my life. You took an awful chance, you old scrapper! The sudden change in Mahaney's color was detectable as I reminded him of his bravery. He seemed uneasy as he said, Aw, 'Cap', that was nothing. We had a good time, didn't we? You bet we did, fella. I was anxious to know more about Mahaney and I suppose he felt the same way about me. Are you married, 'Cap'? My negative answer to this took a long while to sink in before Mahaney laughed and informed me how lucky I was. L'What makes you think that way, fella? Well, he said, I've had plenty tough luck and having a wife to look after makes it tougher. You know, since I've been married I haven't been able to look for a good job. I was forced to stick to the punk one I had. Then the depression came and I suppose I'm just out. How long have you been out of work? Oh, about a year, I guess. Huh, that's not so terribly bad. Well, it's bad enough, he answered. The tough part of it is that I've got a prospect for a job in Brooklyn and train fare is Four Dollars and Fifty Cents and that's Four Dollars and Fifty Cents more than I have. I've pawned practically everything I own except my shoes so far, and I'd sorta look funny without them. I guess I'm just beat 'Cap'. No you're not, Mahaneyf' I answered, as I reached into my pocket and pulled out a five spot and handed it to him. Here you are, and I hope you get that job. I've got to be going. Gee LCap', thanks, he responded jubilantly. Good luck, Mahaneyf' 'LSO long, 'Cap', and same to you. We parted. I walked down to the next corner and opened a large door to a redfbricked building. Well, Peters, what are you doing back here? rang out the voice of a sternffaced, elderly gentleman seated behind an old desk in the office of the central Relief Commission. Er, I'd like to get some food, Sir. Some food ! he cried with surprise. What did you do with the Five Dollars I just gave you half an hour ago for your week's allowance? I put it to a good cause. What kind of cause? he demanded. Aw, forget it, Sir, I only came back for a match. Have you got one? Office Machines By WALTEK CONWAY Perchance it may appear odd that the students in the Machine Class sit in front of their machines with a perplexed frown on their worf ried faces. This phenomenon is not difficult to explain. Usually the solution of a mathematical problem has presented itself. Nevertheless, the operators of the various contrivances are enthuf siastic about this class in which time flies by all too rapidly. Perhaps it is ludicrous to see the amateurs' fingers hesitate and waver on the unfamiliar keyboard, but to the amateur it is a serious Fifty 'seven business. He is striving to master this baffling assemblage of keys, gadgets and levers, he is striving for the attainment of some object. That object is to wrest out of a hidden maze answers to problems in the shortest, quickest manner man has ever conceived. Everyone is cognizant of the saving in time and energy that the machine accomplishes. Nevertheless, it is only after one operates the machine that the full force of this assertion is understood. As each student proceeds down the long valley of questions to the rising sun of

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THE OWL in the hall, followed by the sound of someone fumbling at the doorknob. He had turned as the door opened and there, framed in the doorf Way, he saw the Hgure of a grayfhaired old man. For a split second the eyes of the latter rested right on Dawson's face. For a moment they both stood there thus and then Dawson with an animal snarl of rage once again lifted the revolver and tightened his grip on the trigger. But to his horror, the hammer fell on an empty cartridge. He saw the old man suddenly open his mouth and then, over' come by terror, he fled. But even as he sat here now, with tortured spirit, he knew that he had escaped too late. The eyes of that old man had stared straight at him. He would be sure to recognize him. And even now, perhaps, the whole countryside was being searched for him. He would be found, identified by the, old fellow. Then a trial, conf viction, the gallows! He could have screamed aloud in his mental agony. One thing, he knew: he could sit here no longer. He must be up and gone! They must not catch him! But the forest was so big and it was so dark. Could he get out before morning? He would have to get out soon, for perhaps they were getting bloodhounds ....... Panting, sobbing, unheeding the branches that obstructed him, he rushed on. The crackling of twigs, the sighing of the wind, he attributed always to pursuers. Men! and bloodhounds! They must not get him. And so, on he raced, through all the long hours of the night. And always the forest was before him, seemingly grim and defiant, endless. He cursed it inwardly, shook his fist at it madly. But never was there an end to it. At last, after countless eons, it seemed, the dawn came. He stood gazing off toward where the sun was slowly coming up out of the grey sky. The east! In that direction lay safety. But how far had he traversed during the night? He did not bother, but ran blindly on. And suddenly the forest came to an abrupt end. A meadow possibly two miles wide stretched before him, broken here and there by miniature hills and valleys. He started across it. Surely, he had evaded pursuit by now. The old man would never identify him after all. But he must get out of the country, and that quickly. He came to the top of a small hill ..... The smile faded on his lips. Scarcely a hundred yards away, standing in a small group, were a number of men. They appeared to be holding an impromptu conference. The star on the chest of one told him that the sheriff was superintending the hunt personally. He was speaking to someone beside him, apparently urg- ing him to go back. And then, suddenly, Dawson got a look at the other's face. His jaw dropped, and he uttered a terrified yelp. The old man, damn him! He started to run. Dimly he heard a cry of 'iHalt! He went on blindly, stumbled, went down ....... They were on him now. Rough hands grabbed him, jerked him to his feet, babbling in terror. NI did it! he gasped, I did it! He glared around wildly and saw the figure of the old man, who, oddly enough, had not stirred from the spot where the sheriff had been talking to him. He saw me do it, otherwise you'd never have caught me E Who, him? demanded the sheriff. 'iHim see you? Why, man, you're crazy. That's Jeff Peters, Canning's old servant. He's been blind for years. Wartime Buddie By CHARLES RABEL The articles in a particular jewelry store held my attention and admiration for quite a few minutes. While admiring these lovely gifts, I was confronted by a stranger who asked in a pathetic manner, Say, mister, could you stake a guy to a bite to eat? I ain't had nothing to eat all day. Nonchalantly, I turned to face the one who had addressed me with the expectation of offer' ing no more than a sympathetic word. How' ever, his manner was frank and honest and it was hard to pass him by. A three days' beard on his sunken cheeks, in addition to his untidy clothes, seemed evidence enough that this unforf tunate one was in need. Then as I examined him more closely, he seemed strangely familiar. My mind raced, trying to place him, but he was just beyond reach of my memory. You wouldn't mind telling me your name, would you, fella? I asked. Tim Mahaney, he answered. A full minute elapsed before I was able to F ifty-six

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THE GWL answers he realizes over and over that the brain of man developing such marvelous machines is wonderfully and fearfully made. It is doubtful whether we realize the extent of work completed in the machine course. In this class one acquires knowledge and skill on the Comptometer, Monroe, Dalton and Bur' rough Machines, on the Dictaphone and Edif phone, and in Filing Systems. Not only does one obtain legerdemain, but likewise nimbleness of the brain. The remarkable degree of profif ciency acquired by the students comes through the incessant practice and making the most of fortyffive brief busy minutes. Three quarters of an hour wellfspent in gaining a useful, practical skill is well worth the time and effort. In Self-Defense By CHARLES W. EACKLBS The train was leaving the station, and in a few minutes the conductor would be coming through the cars collecting tickets. John Wilson had no ticket and no money to pay his fare. He knew he had little chance of succeeding in his plan of blufling his way to New York, but he was determined to try. For nearly three months he had been in Boston, unsuccessfully seeking work. The small amount of money he had when he arrived in the city did not last long, and during the last few weeks he had often been hungry. He had pawned his suitcase and all his clothing, except what he now wore, to pay his roomfrent. He had no friends in Boston to whom he could go for help, and the only course left open to him was to return to his home in New York. After many vain attempts to get a ride in an automobile or a truck bound toward New York, John decided to board a train and ride as far as he could before being put off. He chose a train which had a fast schedule and a reputation for being on time. It made few stops, and he felt sure no stop would be made just to put him Gif, but that instead he would be carried to the next regular stop, which would be a long step on his way toward New York. He thought a great deal about what he would say to the conductor. He decided that his best plan would be to act with much more confidence than he really felt. He would be casual and nonchalant. He thought up an elaborate story, which he did not expect the conductor to believe, but which would have the merit of taking a lot of time in the telling. The more time it took, the closer to New York the train would be when he had to get off. As last the conductor stood beside John, who immediately began telling his story. He told the conductor his name and said that he was a reporter for the New York WorldfTelegram. He said that he had been sent to Boston to cover a story there, and had lost both his luggage and the railroad pass which his paper furnished its employes when on special assignments. If he could get to New York his paper would pay the railroad company for his fare. He tried to elabo' rate on this story but the conductor stopped him. john had tried to visualize the conductors reaction to his story, and he was prepared for nearly anything except what actually happened. The conductor said, Well now, that's quite a coincidence. In the car just ahead of this is Mr. Harvey, the editor of the WorldfTelegram. I know because he just handed me a pass such as you say you lost, and it had his name and title and all on it. If your story is true, he is your boss. Now if you will just come along up there with me, we'll see what he has to say about you. If he says you are telling me the truth, every' thing will be all right. But if he does not know you-well you won't like what's going to hapf pen to you. By an enormous effort, john managed to hide his surprise and chagrin. Of course this Mr. Harvey did not know him. His bluff had not worked and he shuddered at the implication in the conductors last words. Mr. Harvey was well dressed and dignified in appearance. The conductor simply said, Mr. Harvey, Mr. Wilson here says he works for your paper, and he lost his pass. Is that right? Mr. Harvey, with only a casual glance at John, replied, Why yes, that's right. Come and sit here with me, Wilson. We'll take care of this when we get to New York, conductor. Thank you. The conductor made a memorandum in his note book and left them. As soon as he was gone, John turned to Mr. Harvey and thanked him for helping him out of his difficulty. He confessed that his story had been untrue and he expressed surprise at Mr. Harvey's telling the conductor that he knew john. Mr. Harvey's reply was, Well, you see son, I had to do it. My name is not Harvey. I found this pass I am using. If you were really employed by the WorldfTelegram, and I had said I did not know you, I would have proven myself a faker. So you see, I had to do it in selffdefensef' Fiftyfeight