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

Page 31 text:

,,.- h ' Q Q -.- A Tragedy of the Cape LOWLY and painfully Little Rocket wended his way along the beach. His heart was breaking, yet he was happy. happy because the cruel Indian tortures had not extracted his secret Well he knew that if he told, his old father would go to the grave without a trial, for the Indians, his country- men roused to a fit of fiendish anger, would fall upon him and rend him limb from limb. No! he would not tell- f'-' fe! Y . 7 X' f:. ' Q x QU. , 2-e., 7 torture could not .force him to tell. Now he was alone. His tribe had cast him out, beaten him, tortured him near unto death, but he would save the honor of one he loved and one who had committed a crime unintentionally. He knew not where to go and wished they had killed him then and there. Mechanically he gathered some mussels for the tide was low and ate them raw, for he had no wish to build a fire. On he wandered never thinking of returning for he alone held the fate of one for whom he would willingly sacrifice his life. Seating himself upon a low rock, he mournfully retraced the incidents of the day before. VVhere could he go-go and die where no one would find him? By chance his eye lit upon the great rock that lies off Cape Mendocino, and he watched the sea-lions fighting at its seaward side. Suddenly he was attracted by one of these, which was trying to flee from an angry opponent. Up, up it scrambled until about one-eighth of thelway up. the rock became PAGE TH IRTY-ONE

Page 30 text:

March Winds Do you ever stop and ponder, As you journey to and fro, What an awful lot of mischief The March Winds do, that blow? If you' haven't, keep your eyes peeled, As you stroll along the street, And you'll see it starts things moving In a way that's rather neat. First a woman with a basket Piled so high with snowy clothes, Who deftly on the line does hang them, In such long uneven rows, While the March Wind sets them whipping, Scatt'ring garments all around, Then the line breaks, and they're lying Soiled and ruined on the ground. Next upon a sloping house-roof, Crawls a man, both slow and bent, To repair some broken places Evidently his intent. Soon the playful March WVinds find him, Heeding neither oaths nor frown, Sends the shingles flying upwards, And the ladder crashing down. Then a doctor kind and helpful, Gets a hurried call to come, Starts for the waiting auto, With his tall silk beaver on, But the March Winds take his hat off, Leading him a tiresome chase, Then the message, You're too slow, sir, And the rival gets the case. For the boys it breaks the kite strings, Fills with dust the people's eyes, Spoils the costly point-lace curtains As they from the windows Hy. Oh! an awful lot of mischief, As my verses try to show, Is ,let loose at every springtime, When the hateful March Winds blow. W. E. B., '12. PAGE TH IRTY

Page 32 text:

so steep that it was obliged to stop and stand at bay. Now he thought, If I could climb that rock they would never find me. His legs were stiff and weak, for the Indians had lashed him within an inch of his life. With some trouble, he reached the rock, for the tide was still low, and looked around for a suitable place to start climbing. At last he found a deep crevice running obliquely up the rock. Cau- tiously he climbed, always watching his next movement. The long walk, the loss of blood, and his stiffened muscles were beginning to tell on him now. Once he fell, but caught again on a rocky projection below. He was very tired now, and thingsseemed to swim before his eyes. If he had made one faulty step, he would have without doubt been dashed to pieces on the rocks below. Many hours did it take to climb that mountainous rock, and, when he reached the top, faintness had overtaken him. The top of the rock was covered with thick bunches of sea grass, amongst which were the nests of various sea birds. Finding a comparatively level spot, free from nests, he sank down, amidst the cries of the mother birds. The night was very cold, but he did not careg he only wished it colder. Next day there was great commotion in the little Indian village by the sea. It was found that the chief had met his death accidentally, and Little Rocket had not known the murderer after all. Swift runners were sent on his trail, for they had seen him depart, but search as they might, they could not find him. They concluded that he must have joined another tribe farther north. Many years after. a party of white tourists found the bones of an Indian on the top of Mendocino Rock, and they wondered that one of so daring a race should die upon this rock where they, with the help of a few ropes and ladders, could retrace their steps. . R. R., '12. V Spring Oh! for the glad daysiof summer When all is fair and bright, When the verdant trees and Howers Gleam in the morning light. P After dreary days of winter The world in smiles unfold, Fair then is the face of nature In beauty sweet untold. E. W., '12. PAGE TH IRTY TWO