Galt Collegiate Institute and Vocational School - Specula Galtonia Yearbook (Galt, Ontario Canada)

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SWE' i n . .U 'fg ilsemffili PARA Tv l U L' A A L Pnrrvs ' Hah, hah, hefs a hound. You dare say that again 5 Peter clenched his fists threateningly. He's a hound, repeated the boy. Well, the result was rather confusing. Peter's left fist landed not too gently, on the offender's right eye, and a royal battle ensued. Over and over they rolled in the dust, and the air was filled with gasps and cries and shouts of fury. Toby, not realizing that he was the cause of the trouble circled excitedly around the combatants, wild with anxiety for his master, and bestowing the odd nip on the intricate mass of human limbs. Finally Peter, battered and bruised, emerged on top of the stranger. Do you give in ? he roared, accompanying this by furious bounces. The offender decided that he had received enough. A brilliant idea had just occurred to him. Say, he said, you won, but if you let me up I'll show you a great place for fishing. Honest Inj un ? demanded Peter. Honest lnjun, replied the boy. Peter, all excitement now, snatched up his fishing rod, and trotte.d after the stranger, the memory of his fierce battle and the insult to Toby obliterated from his mind at the thought of fishing. In a few moments the boys reached one of the jolliest, brownest, warmest-looking ponds that Peter had ever seen. Overcome with delight, he at once occupied himself with the absorbing business of fishing. Minutes passed, but with no result. Peter was becoming seriously annoyed. Give it to me, commanded the stranger. Peter rather shamefacedly relinquished his rod, and watched with amazement, then anger, and finally with downright admiration, as the boy pulled in one silvery fish after another. f P P w TNA X .M K! How do you do it ? gasped Peter. Oh, I don't know, my father can make 'em come too. You got to have something in you to attract them. Dad calls it the 'oil of come along'. ' 28

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if ARA TU l U L' PARATUS llllllillElll3?ffl . Awake, for morning in the bowl of night, Has cast the stone that put the stars to flight. -OMAR KHAYGAM Un Such are Friendships Made By HONOR BAILIE T was one of those glorious late June days made up of heat and sunshine and colour, an ideal afternoon for a boy and a dog. But Peter exper- ienced no pleasure in the warm brown dust under his bare feet, nor any thrill in the feel of his fishing rod as he trailed it listlessly along the ground. Toby, not sharing his master's unhappiness, was gaily trotting in front and regaling himself occasionally in hide-and-seek with the squirrels. Well, really, Peter had plenty of reason to be miserable. Here it was summer, the happiest time in a boy's life, and Reggy Schwartz, his best pal, was down with scarlet fever. There was Hanky of course, but Hanky didn't count, he was a big sissy in Peter's conception. It was no fun to play Indians or pirates by oneself. Peter, lost in his misery, did not realize that he was the object of deep scrutiny, until his melancholy reflections were suddenly interrupted by this startling comment, Gee, I bet you ain't caught a fish in your life. Peter raised amazed eyes to the intruder, and beheld a dirty, ragged little boy, of his own age, perched on a stone wall. I have so, I've caught lots, hotly retorted Peter. By this time Toby was inquisitively examining the stranger. Say, call yer hound off meg he looks wild. At once Peter was on the defensive. He 'won't bite yah, he ain't a hound, and he ain't vicious. He's thoroughbred. Ha, ha ! jeered the stranger, Uthoroughbredl ha, ha, he's a hound. He ain't, stoutly denied Peter. Well, what is he then ? This nonplussed Peter for a time, but he bravely rallied to the occas- sion. He's got a thoroughbred collie tail, declared Peter, pointing to- wards Toby's jaunty little plume, and he's got thoroughbred police dog ears. Peter got no further. 27 -

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'14 I' '-4- .,.,. -V I 1 . if . if Say, you got me all beat in fishing, and if you say Toby's not a hound, let's shake hands and be friends. Well, conceded the. boy, if Toby's a hound, he's a good old hound ianyvzay, and if I beat you in fishing, you can beat me all hollow in wrest- mg. Peter felt very grand, magnanimous, and forgiving as he shook hands with the boy. What's your name ? inquired Peter. Tony, replied the boy, just call me Tony. Say, Tony, will you come fishing to-morrow ? Sure, any time, rain or shine. Oh, gee, was all Peter could say. Life was worth living once more. CC C6 ll '52 Tassie's Apes By HUME WILKINS LAD in dressing gown and slippers I am seated before a glowing fire- place, musing over the contents of a book of verse I hold in my hand. The writer was a man who loved and cared for our school for forty years-David MacGeorge. One of his story-poems appeals strangely to my mind, and by and by I begin to see the incidents of the tale taking shape the the red-gold flames. An etching of old Tassie School, a gloomy pile on its emerald campus, develops. Slowly a knot of boys comes into my per- spective, and I recognize them as some of Tassie's Apes. The crackling of the fire is metamorphosed into voices, and I listen, entranced. J ack- When ? Dick- To-night, while he's marking those exercises. Harry- Suppose he hears us ? Dick-'fWe'll beat it if he turns up. I - Harry- But he'll quiz everybody to-morrow until he finds out who it was. Fred.- Well, then, we-'ll confess-surely we can all stand the cane by this time. Harry- But how will he ever get it back ? Dick- Oh, you're too conscientious altogether, we've got to have a little fun, even though somebody does smart for it. Jim.- That's what I think-we haven't done anything exciting for months and months. Dick- N ow, father and mother are away, and I'm alone at home. As soon as I've had supper, Illl snitch some doughnuts and a pie from the pantry, and then call for Jim-he1's going to bunk with me to-night. We'll hike over to the Head's barn, and I'll climb in the little window, and unbolt the front door, while Jim watches the house. Len.- But where do we come in ? Dick- Oh, by that time you'll have finished tea, and you can all follow us over. When I meow like a cat, you'll creep up beside the hedge, to the 29