Garfield Junior High School - Gleaner Yearbook (Berkeley, CA)

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THE MAN WITH THE BLACK SATCHEL Edward C. Johnson was spending a week with his uncle, Mr. John J. Brinkwater, at his home in Fairview Highlands. Ed walked down the stairs toward the garden, but he stopped before he was halfway down. He heard a man say, Be sure not to let any one know about this. Remember to be here at 9 : i 5 o ' clock this evening. Mr. Brinkwater will not be here then. He then saw a mysterious man with a black satchel leave the grounds. When he saw his uncle alone the next time, he told him what he had heard and seen. Well, it looks like someone is planning to rob us, said Mr. Brink- water, but I never would have thought that Henry would do such a thing. Ed commented, Do you think we can go to the Brown ' s and then come back and catch the robber in the act? My friend, Mr. Burns, the detective, may be able to help us in this. That evening they went ot the Brown ' s house, but they did not stay. They and Mr. Burns went to the house next door to Mr. Brinkwater ' s house. They waited till they were very weary. Finally, the butler came out of the door and looked around. He then signaled to the man with the black satchel who went into the house. Later, Mr. Burns, Ed, and his uncle quietly went into the house. As they went up the stairs they heard a bang — the sound of a heavy piece of metal falling on the floor. Mr. Burns, with gun drawn, stepped into the room. Mr. Brinkwater and Ed followed him. To their amazement the butler was standing by the door very much startled. The other man had just removed part of the floor heater and was reaching down into it. The black satchel was lying by his side with a crowbar, wrench, and several other tools in it. How can you explain this? demanded Mr. Brinkwater. I — er — ah — well, it was this way. I dropped your favorite pipe in the floor heater. I didn ' t want you to know about it so I had the plumber come when you weren ' t here. — Fred Wood, Low Nine. The Brooklet Rushing and gushing down the glen , Swirling and twirling ' round tJoe bend, Singing and ringing o ' er roctiy rill, Wanders tloe brootdet, down tloe hill. Lying tJoere in a pool so still. Now hurrying, scurrying toiuards tJje mill, Then out in the sunshine, and past the mill. Wanders the brooldet, down the hill. — Betty Garges.

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spring in the Embryo Feathery green tree, Background against the dijfident blue of the sky. Plebeian sparroivs chirp coarsely. A sprig of greenery pokes shy around the red brick luall, Clothing the soft red brick, Looping loosely around it. And entwines it, lovingly. The air hums absently, Considering abstract problems. A bird of doubtful origin and dusty, bedraggled feathers, Lights upon a telephone wire. Another darts beside him; They chat sociably. Then fly erratically aiuay. The air hums, Takes to itself rare perfume. Becomes laden ivith nectar, drugged with incense. The sun ivarms everything — . — Joel Lee, High Nine. NEVER AGAIN Say, have you ever ridden in an aeroplane, Gertie? No? Well, take my advice and don ' t do it! Why, it ' s worth your life, such as it is. I went for a ride in one of those infernal bird affairs yesterday morning and have just now gotten up. I thought I would collapse if I dared to trust myself on my feet even for one minute. When we were over the lake I walked up to our pilot. I asked him what would happen if something went wrong in the engine. He said to me, ' Lady, we ' d never hear of you again. ' And then he said. And if a wing should fall off, you ' d never live to see my beaming countenance again. ' Then he made an awful grimace at me and told me to ' go sit down, ' I might fall out of the window! Imagine! Speak- ing to me like that! After that he proceeded to do a lot of summersaults with that bird of his. I was on the floor on my face half of the time! See my nose? It ' s all black and blue. What a man! — Phyllis Wisecarver, High Nine.

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Homeward Bound The roaring brook rns oed madly, Doivn to the wide spread sea, It gurgled and gushed and leaped In seeming joyous glee. It reached the first line breakers And mingling in the foam It nestled in the curling crests, Where at last it found its home. — Jane Armitage, High Seven. BELIEVE IT OR NOT! Gone! Gone! The words raced through my brain hke a cyclone. With icy fingers I clutched the bed for support. My throat was dry; I almost choked. They can ' t be, the words stumbled out of my mouth and formed the sentence. Over and over again I repeated it while the real truth kept pounding in my head hke a hammer. Once more I glanced at the small, black, leather box, but only the smooth, white satin lining of the box greeted my searching eye. It was true! The fear that had seized me only five minutes before had given way to reality. The jewels were stolen! After regaining my composure I searched frantically in every nook and cranny in a vain attempt to recover the beautiful diamond necklace. The search was for naught! I could scarcely comprehend this astounding acknowledgement. I stumbled blindly out of the cabin to get a breath of fresh, salt air. The motion of the boat sickened me. I felt giddy. I swayed mechanically as I groped my way to the rail. A small, dark ob- ject darted across my path causing me to stumble. The catastrophe, which might have happened, didn ' t occur as a Mr. Randall, a passenger on the ship, passing by at the crucial moment, steadied my arm and aided me to regain my footing. Mr. Randall gallantly tipped his hat and pointedly smiled at me. I looked around to see what had caused the disturbance. To my astonishment I saw the retreating figure of my pet monkey, Jocket, disappear around a corner. I could not suppress a giggle as I recalled the timely appearance of my benefactor. Then I recalled his apparent joviality. Something mysterious lurked beneath his mask of friendliness. This little incident, unimportant as it was, brought me down to earth with a bang and left me with a mind clear for action. The next most logical thing to do was to confide in Captain Whalton, explain the entire situation, and take his advice as to the next step to recover my stolen jewels. Tremblingly I walked up the stairs and knocked on a door. Large