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

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An lncident of Mattole Valley STEALTHILY the five crouching fig- ures crept beneath the damp under- brush. Now and then a great shower PN of dew fell from the branch of a tree f which one of them accidentally hit. ! ' The sweet odor of budding spring filled their nostrils. They were hunts- men, all. They knew the country well. As Theodore Allen often stated, there was not a foot of the Mattole Valley which was unfamiliar to him. They slipped along silently and noise- lessly with an apparent understanding and directness of purpose. They seemed to near their destination for they moved yet more cautiously. They paused at every sound, their guns ready for instant use. But the Indianls ears had grown less keen, their senses less acute to each sound since their wild, free life had been brought into restraint by the nearness of the white settlement and the fire water. So unheard, unsuspected, unlooked for, the five men surrounded the little camp. At first only the dim outline of the wigwams could be seen against the grayish sky, but at last the mouldering heap of last night's fire could could be discerned. Then as the patch of light widened a heap of rags, old cast off garments of white settlers, bunches of corn cobs, and a pile of clam shells were visible. A 1' .I 1 .- fflpwi , , . j3W5.i.'?Ef Not long had the visitors to take in the details of the camp. Several of the squaws came out of their respective wigwams to light the fires. What combinations of dress! Men's coats, waists-when there were any-of faded and bright hued calicoes, skirts, some reaching the ground in back and their kness in front and vice versa. On only one custom did they see two agree. And that was the mode of dressing their hair. The coarse black hair of each was crowded into one little tight braid. Under their hands, skilled by practice, the fires soon glowed. Black-headed, dark eyed children hopped up here and there, seemingly from nowhere. The papooses clamored in their baskets. Finally the warriors of the camp made their appearance. They seemed to scent danger in the air. They were not kept long in suspense. Almost simultaneously live guns popped and two Indians fell. The Indians grabbed their rifies. Their squaws clutched the pappooses. They were utterly un- prepared, and had no place for cover. A moment of inaction meant death to each Indian. At a gutteral command each squaw with unfailing obed- ience snatched the nearest pappoose and stood as a guard to the figures behind. It was. unexpected to the white men. None of them would know- ingly kill a squaw. Their guns were cocked but they hesitated. Finally Allen muttered, This won't do. He was facing a woman who was holding fiercely and undauntedly toward his very face aicooing pappoose, chuckling and throwing its little tan fists around in the air. Allen was a good shot and PAGE TWENTY-SEVEN

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My Fishing' Companion Mattie and I went fishing, Down by the clear creek side. I was my father's youngest song She was her mother's pride. Sometimes we- went in the moming, Staying the long day through, Taking our tackle and hooks And plenty of lunch for two. Softly the breeze from the ocean Swept thro' the wild wood vine Ruffling the pool's clear waters, Rumpling her hair and mine. Sometimes my mother would tease me A girl from town to take-S But I'd just sneak off with Mattie, She wasn't afraid of a, snake. And when I caught a speckled trout And shouted aloud with glee, Mattie seemed to be very proud And snuggled up close to me. Oh! I'd rather' by far take Mattie Than all ofthe whole town bunch, For she is so gentle and kind- And doesn't steal all the lunch. For fear you will think that Mattie Was bold or tough, and all that, I will tell you my fishing companion Was only a Maltese cat. W. E. B., '12. f X l 1' X XX -ff fa- - NL .. it f S ii: Q ff-e -fi' 'gg' -si. ,W E3 S, g lfllfiff -' I f- - if PAGE TWENTY-SIX

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took aim at the Indian who had first tired his gun behind this human breast- work. But even the best shots fail. The little arms of the papoose stiffened, the little face was drawn in pain. The bullet had entered at the right arm and passed through the thick part of the small chest, tearing the skin and flesh from the quivering body. The tiny hero gave one long scream and then the mother moved her lips sternly. She grasped her child tighter and a long Sh-h-h', forced itself from her closed lips. The child looked up into the face of stern command-caught his breath-and ceased his crying. Thus early began the Indian discipline. VViser mothers are you then so very wise? I. M. T., ,12. . ,V f., -' ' Vi'LE1'ffQ ' 1 mf. H 1 '11 ' Q., fwjc X Q -1' it l ei. W. ,, , ' -.'- .pf--ff. A. , w,uNi', ,,,1i,.,mHw'f , 1 Vai ? ,,,eLg5.?E, ..- :jf-5'!Zf'f Afbsf- 14, . figs,-r Parody on the Quality of Mercy CA S0phomore's Advice to Seniors.j . The quality of peotry is not strained, It cometh as slow as cold tar in winter time To the Senior's waiting hand, it is thankfully received, and gladly given Qby the Sophomoresj. It is twice blessedg it blesseth the Senior who receives, and the Prof. who readsg 'tis simplest in the simplest: It becomes The crafty student better than his studies, His books show the force of mental energy, The attribute to knowledge and understanding , Wherein doth sit the prayers and wants of the ignorant, But poetry is above this knowledge of booksg It is enthroned in the minds of all who tryg It is an attribute to Longfellow himself 5 Therefore, Senior, though poetry be thy plea, Consider this: That not all are natural poetsg You do pray for poetry, and that same prayer Doth teach us Sophs to help you all we can. , W. H. B., 'l2. PAGE TWENTY'EIGHT