Ferndale Union High School - Tomahawk Yearbook (Ferndale, CA)

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His face brightened and a great spark of hope Hashed across his forlorn and ghastly pale countenance. He quickened his steps and soon found himself knocking at the door of an old fisherman's hut, who, upon greeting him, invited him to come into his humble cabin. The storm raged for several days and when at last it subsided, the old fisherman and the sailor went toqsee the stranded vessel and to get what they could from the wreck. But, to their great disappointment, when they climbed on board they found that she had already been plundered, by someone. The gold which the men had hoped to find was gone and also all the clothes and food that would have been very useful to them had also been carried away. Some Indian foot-prints were noticed in the sand. This solved the mystery for they knew at once that Indians had been the robbers. Several days later an old Indian, a friend of the fisherman, came to the cabin and told the two men that his countrymen had robbed the boat of a great deal of gold and other things. He said they had hidden the gold in a cave far upon the side of a high peak, which is now known as King's Peak, and is located about fifteen miles north of the present town of Shelter Cove. If I tell white man, Indian kill me, and the old Indian's voice trembled as he said it, for he feared his fellow tribesmen, when he was bidden to keep a secret and told it. Many days, weeks and months were spent by the old fisherman and the survivor in search of the hidden treasure, but all in vain. The cave could never be found. Many, many years have now passed since the vessel was wrecked and dozens of hunters when passing over this mountain, think of and often look for the lost gold. F. W. C., '11. fi f, I k'X,, x.,--- ll 4, CD, U L1 Cv, ,ij i 1- 5-f' ..- .-n-.. fuer .-f' -s 1- 3'-in R - ,.,- .,--5' 1-91:3-67: ,gif 5-.5 -,- - E.-i 1-',....... ,.,. .1 51, - ,.. i:e:...-- z-...I ,, r i ,I f I f 2 ,1 X 56 PAGE TWENTY FOUR

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The Lost Gold NE morning in January, in the year 1873, a little two-masted F755 sailing schooner set sail from a far northern port for Mexico S. and the southern countries. The weather being favorable :f for sailing, weeks came and went, and all was well. But the smooth weather seemed to be at an end, for '9'-H1177 7' now the sky became overcast with black clouds, the wind ' ' blew and the sea's once calm and peaceful bosom became rougher and rougher. All that could be done by the sturdy sailors and crew proved fruitless and the little vessel was driven helplessly far from her course. The wind shrilled through her rigging and the heavy seas were washed over her decks. Still she made some headway against the elements, until, witha great crash, the deck was swept clean of masts, ropes, sails and everything that could be torn off by the engulfing sea. She was now utterly helpless and as powerless to help herself in the raging and foaming sea as the little lamb is in the paws of the fierce and roaring lion. Farther and farther toward the sharp, jagged and gruellingrocks upon the shore she was driven. The few lives on board were as nothing, for they would soon be swallowed up with only a ripple to mark their graves. With a great crash and Va smash the little boat was carried by atremendous wave upon the rocks. The shore was scarcely a hundred feet away, but to swim through the boiling, surging and foaming sea was a feat almost impossible for the most expert swimmer. But life was at stake. A chance was taken. All leaped overboard and made an attempt to struggle for the shore, but sad to tell, only one ofthe twelve brave men reached the goal and was saved. Was he really saved? He knew not where to go. He saw no one. What was he to do? The lonely survivor must find aid and shelter or he would soon join his companions. He was wet, cold and nearly freezing. His matches were damp, he could kindle no fire to dry his clothes and warm his freezing limbs. He must find some human inhabitant. He started to walk south along the beach. Several hours passed but no one was to be seen. Was he to meet the fate of his comrades? It seemed as though he was, for night was coming on, it was certain he could not withstand the perils until morning. He staggered on. The night grew darker and darker. The wind whistled and howled and his body was becoming colder each second by the blinding snow that was beginning to fall. He saw a light in the distance, or did he just imagine it? Could it be possible that human inhabitants lived in this place? It was surely a light, for he looked again and again and each time he was the more thor- oughly satisiied that it was a true light. PAGE TWENTYJIHREE

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A fn fir! Ki 9 M4 531453 'J az: Eventide ITTING on my veranda scanning across an orchard toward the western horizon, a gorgeous sunset greets my eyes. In brilliancy it is beyond description-no human artist could portray on canvas the vivid and picturesquely arranged colorings of this panorama The yellow light which a few hours ago bathed the hills and meadows slowly has changed to orange then to crimson again to a deeper crimson The trees that partially obscure this view yet that make it even i , 1 Y . . 1. more fascinating, are blossom laden, and with each gentle evening zephyr there is wafted toward me myriads of dainty pink petals, abounding in sweet- est fragrance. The orchard-land is heavily carpeted with richest clover- dotted here and there with bunches of white daisies, a satisfactory home for the neighbor's old family cows, Fan and Nell, who are now comfortably at rest for the night. The little creek beyond I hear rippling and gurgling as it wends its way seaward-while the crashing and roaring of breakers of the old ocean, cold and gray, are distinctly heard in the distance. But the sun has setg and the golden clouds have faded to a somber gray. I turn from west to east and behold the moon beams loosing them- selves over the mountains and valley. A night owl with his weird and melancholy who-who breaks the evening hush as he begins his nocturnal raid along the creek, which is lined with tassellated alders and pussy bur- dened willows. As-the notes of this twilight marauder die away, there comes the solemn chorus of the frogs as they chant their evening overture. I look up a moment at the thousands of starry travelers, everyone in his right place journeying across the heavens. As I meditate, there comes to my mind an added meaning of Now fades the glowing landscape to the sight, And all the air a solemn stillness holdsf' I reluctantly turn on the threshold as I go indoors, and pause for one more lingering look, when a sweet, tender voice seems to say, All is now at' peace, God watches over all. C. A. M., '10, l 1 PAGE TWENTY-FIVE