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

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They had been asleep for some time when a frightful deafening noise ■ awoke them. Paddy! cried Joan, What on earth is the matter? Don ' t be alarmed, said Paddy, It ' s only rain on the tin roof. Rain! It sounds to me as if Mustard had left the Kraal gate open and the horses were galloping on the roof! They slept finally and awoke to a morning filled with a strange deep rear. They dressed quickly and ran through the house to the yard. Not a soul was in sight! The roar seemed to come from the Oliphants, that dry stretch of sand. Up a Kopjie they scrambled and there at their feet rushed a mighty torrent of water. But look! On the bank there are men running and shouting. They have ropes and are trying to pull something out of the flood. It ' s a cart and two horses swimming desperately ! And, oh! A man! Slowly they are pulled to shore and stagger out of the water. Then Paddy screams Oh! Oh! It ' s Daddy! The girls fly down and Paddv is crying in her father ' s arms. He had come to meet them, and the flood had caueht him in the middle of the river. Back at the farm house Joan thought to herself If four hours rain can do this to the rivers I ' m glad I didn ' t get my wish. Betty Ricker, Low Eight. Autumn Leaves The Aiifiiiuu leaves And then the u iud Come finubliiig down, Conies wh sking by, And fall around us And all the leaves On the ground. Fran us do fly. Red and yellow, Yet every year Blue and green, They come and go. They make a most And bring to us Delightful scene. Their little show. I find it fun Of playing and dancing To watch them fall All the long day. From out of trees — Until by the winds Some large, some small. They are carried away. Allex Sugdex, High Eight. ' ' Who does not love true poetry, He lacks a bosom friend To ivalk with him, - To talk ivith him, And all his steps attend. ' ' Henry Clay Hall.

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Feet Tramp, tramp, tramp — Tloey marclj in single file. Plod, plod, plod — Weary of exile. Tramp, tramp, tramp — TJoe prison floors are worn From the plod, plod, plod Of forgotten and forlorn. Tramp, tramp, tramp — On tide wall tJoe sentry stands. Plod, plod, plod— A deadly rifle in Jois Jjands. Tramp, tramp, tramp — Does no one tloinli each day Of those IV ho plod, plod, plod Their weary lives away? Lilian Hennessey, High Nine. AN AFRICAN APRIL SHOWER My, I ' m hot! I ' m so thirsty and dirty! Doesn ' t it ever rain in this country? said Joan as the Cape Cart jogged monotonously along through the dust. The two little girls were room mates at boarding school in Cape Town. They were going up country to Paddy ' s home, Springbok, for the Easter vacation. To Joan, who was English, Africa was still a very strange and wonderful land. They had come by train to the end of the railroad and had been met by Cousin Peter and the Kaffir boy. Mustard, in the Cape Cart. Cheer up Joan, said Paddy. We will soon come to Spring Kloof where we can wash our hands at least. Soon! thought poor Joan as she looked around the dry sandy veldt for some signs of water. Oh! I wish it would rain for a week! The cart dropped suddenly down into a dry kloop, or river bed, and stopped. Why are we stopping, Padd,y? Paddy didn ' t answer, but scrambled over the high wheel. The boys were already down and had commenced to dig in the sand. After the hole was two feet deep, sure enough it began to fill with water. Late that night they arrived at Silverfontain, a large Boer cattle farm near the Oliphants River, where they were to spend the night. The children ate their supper of milk, mealies and biltong and thank- fully crawled into bed. Only two more days and we ' ll be home, said Paddy as she blew out her candle.

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MERRY CHRISTMAS! The great town clock struck nine as the watchmaker locked his little shop. He looked at his gold watch and smiled to himself as he saw that it kept perfect time with the town clock. Then shoving his hands deep down in his pockets, he started home. There were not many people on the streets at this time of night, for in Canada it gets dark quickly in the winter time. Johann Briggs whistled gaily as he made his way down a narrow side street. Why shouldn ' t he whistle? Tomorrow was Christmas Eve, and Johann did not work then. A few minutes later a shadow crouched in the doorway of the clock shop. Someone was quietly working at the lock. The door opened and the shadow went in. Mike, the superstitious policeman who patrolled the eastern section of the town and who the people said couldn ' t catch anything but the measles, walked quickly to the shop. He soon walked away for surely no one would go into the clock shop. Everyone in the town loved Johann. People often stopped to talk to the little watchmaker with the long white beard and twinkly blue eyes, who had a kind word for everybody. Now the streets were completely deserted and a quiet hush settled over the town. Mike was making his final round when a low moan came from the watch shop. He paused and listened. Then he started to go in, but decided that he had better investigate. He put his hand on the door and it opened. Did Johann forget to lock the door? He stepped cau- tiously into the room. While groping about for a light switch, he touched the window shade which went up with a bang! The terrified policeman sprang to the door, but seeing it was only the shade, gained courage again. Suddenly something swept past him. He backed quickly against the wall at the same time pushing on the switch and flooding the room with light. Not seeing anything out of the ordinary the officer left the shop thinking that perhaps a cat had been causing all the commotion. The next morning Johann got up quite early and not having anything to do, decided to walk down to his shop to see if everything was all right. Upon entering the shop he noticed that the door to the great grandfather clock was ajar. When he opened the door, out fell a large package. The old man ' s eyes glistened as he untied the string. As the paper fell away a large basket containing a Christmas dinner and presents for Johann was revealed. The old watchmaker also knew that it was the school children who had left it there for him. They had given him a basket each year, but it had always been left on his door step. At first he thought they had forgotten him, but finding it in the shop was even a greater surprise. Do you know! cried Mike coming into the shop breathlessly a few minutes later just as Johann was going home, that someone was prowling around your shop last night and when I came near they all ran away! Come here, said Johann, and Fll show you what the night prowlers left.