George E Westinghouse High School - Sketch Book Yearbook (Pittsburgh, PA)

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--fa- Thg Sketch B00k 'o-- The corral was built rather close to a shack once inhabited by a woman popu- larly supposed to be a witch. Recently, she had been found dead by her own hands and the supersitious natives believed her to be the source of the trouble. Many of them deserted, and those remaining were ready to leave at the first opportunity. After much persuasion one of these was induced to stand guard at the corral. The next morning he too was found, an expression of horror upon his cold features. Immediately, the few remaining Indians fled, leaving only the faithful Bisesa. He then followed Nayland and McKee to the corral. As Nayland looked at the body, his shoulders drooped, he seemed a beaten man. Then setting his jaws, he straightened and swore through his teeth that he would hnd the marauder, kill him, or die in the attempt. All three then decided to stand guard. The first and second night there were no inroads, and nothing happened to disturb the watchers. On the third night of their vigil, Nayland on the east side and Bisesa on the west were close to a forest, but lVIcKee in the southwest corner next to the shack was right above the river bank. This position allowed for any two to answer the summons of the third. Tired by his previous vigils, McKee, relaxing the tensity of his guard because of the uselessness of the first two nights' watch, crept close to the shack in order that he might prop his body into a sitting posture. Much against his will he drifted to sleep. It seemed but a moment, however, until he awoke, his nerves tingling curiously. Then he became conscious that something was moving on the other side of the shack. A slight thump! Mc- Kee had been decorated for heroism in the VVorld VVarg but now he was paralyzed. A swishing sound! It is often said that there is no fear so demoralizing as the fear of the unknown. Somehow, McKee cannot yet understand how, he managed to light a torch. Again that swishing sound and then silence, whatever the thing was, it had escaped. He called to the other two. No answer! Rushing over, he stumbled across the dead body of Nayland, the same expression of horror upon his features as upon those of the native who had been found crushed. A few paces further on Bisesa was discovered in the same condition as his master, whom he had attempted to save. This was too much for McKee. He hurried back to the mansion, notified the local authorities, and accompanied by several Indians formerly employed on the plantation, set off down the Trabajo by canoe, bound for Para. As they were making camp, the Indians called lVIcKee's attention to a great log Hoating past. On second look a giant boa-constrictor was seen coiled upon it. Immediately McKee understood his friends' deaths, but to this day the Indians are convinced that Nayland's property is haunted and refuse to work on it. ..s:2nlgx.. A Father's Song OR a long while, Howard Welton, Junior, the popular tenor, had been followed by a shabbily-dressed man. In the street, the stranger walked behind him. Occasionally, as VVelton entered his car, the unknown had opened the door for him. Thinking him a beggar, the singer had given the man pieces of money, being re- warded with a faint Thank you and with eyes filled with tears that stirred the singer's heart. Sometime, somewhere, he had seen those eyes. But where? However, the question was usually dismissed as a fancy. One miserable night in November as VVelton was about to enter the Paramount Theatre, where he was singing, he noticed the stranger near by. But no! This bearded, bent old man could not be the mysterious stranger! The former had had Fyteen ---an 1928 ww

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s'- l The Sketch Book l '-v-- An Artist's Adventure NOTHER touch here-a flercer twist to his moustache there.-Gee, but he looks villainous! Thus ran George Ramsey's thoughts as he sat in the street car on his way home from art school, idly sketching on the back of an en- velope. His unknown model, a foreign Workman, sat across the aisle. A sup! pressed snicker from the occupant of the seat next to George roused him. His neighbor had glanced over his shoulder and had been much amused by the strik- ing likeness. Rather embarrassed because his cartoon had been seen, George stuffed it into his coat pocket and sat quietly watching his fellow passengers. Somehow his glance seemed to be drawn irresistibly back to the unsuspecting object of his artistic efforts. It seemed to him that he had seen the man somewhere before- but where? Lazily he turned the question over his mind. Suddenly, he knew where he had seen that face! The picture flashed before his mind with the caption, Reward-S1000 for the capture of this dangerous criminal, bank robber and murderer. Just then the bandit rose to leave the car and George followed. It was a dark and lonely neighborhood in which he found himself, but he followed the robber unhesitatingly down the black street. The robber, unware that he was being pursued, looked neither to the right nor to the left, butstrode on. George sprang forward, leaped on the startled bandit, and after a terrific struggle over- powered him. Hearing the battle, a crowd quickly gathered, the police patrol arrived, and George found himself being hustled off to the police station in company with his prize. There the Chief of Police clapped him on the back saying, Young man, we need more of your type and are proud to reward this S1000 for-'Oakview Avenuel' The vision of a fat roll ofbills faded as George blinked and looked around. He was still on the street car, while the mustached villain of his dream dozed peace- fully. George left the car, sighing heavily as he thought of the reward and wish- ing that dreams might come true. FRANCES GRAHAM QQUIQJ.. The Spirit Marauder AYLAND'S rubber plantation, situated near the source of the Trabajo River, a tributory of the Amazon, was on the verge of failure due to a series of depredations made upon both workers and beasts around the farm. The help had gradually deserted, one by one, until only Bisesa, a faithful Indian whose life Nayland had once saved, Howard McKee, who had accepted the position of manager, and Albert Nayland himself were left. At first the attacks were made solely upon the calves, a few of which disap- peared leaving no trace. These onsets were thought to be the work of some night prowler desiring meat, and so only dogs were set as guards. Nevertheless, this did not stop the inroads on the stock, alarm was added to displeasure,.for soon both dogs and cows suffered. Several animals were found dead, their bodies crushed to a pulp, but no blood shed. Fourteen --4--i 1928 - A-1

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--4-f The Sketch B00 ..g... signs of being a poor man, but still he had walked up-right. Here he was, however, with a white beard and with crutches. The singer concluded that the beggar had been in an accident, which was true. As he passed the old man, he heard, Howard,', in a strangely familiar voice. Oh! It could not be! But perhaps! It was impossible! He had now been dead for over live years. VVelton turned to the man and offered his assistance. No, again the voice brought back recollections, not with money. But please, may I be permitted to hear you sing? Only once. Wlill you grant me this? What a peculiar wish,'! thought Howard Welton. Then he answered, Of course, come in with me. Choose any seat except the box seats, for they are reserved. Instead of taking an orchestra seat, the cripple went slowly up the stairs to the balcony, where he chose an end seat in the front row. Again thought the singer, What a peculiar man. Perhaps he feels out of place down here, dressed as he is. The program opened with several orchestral selections followed by the popular singer. Each song was applauded more and more. As the final encore, he an- nounced he would sing a song that had been taught to him by his father before the latter's death. Everyone remembered the death of Howard Welton, Senior. His body had been recovered on a train track badly mangled and would have remained un- identifled had it not been for a card bearing his name. The audience was hushed. At the end, no one applauded, the song had touched them deeply. In the balcony, however, the stranger arose slowly, ex tended his arms upward and in a choking voice cried, 'KGod bless you, my-sonf' The next instant the man fell across the railing, the ushers preventing his falling to the first floor. The audience was in a turmoil! Everyone had heard the exclamation, My sonln The cry had carried over to the singer, who rushed from the stage, his fears justified. He elbowed his way through the crowd into the emergency room, knelt at the side of the couch, gathering the frail body into his arms, and with tears streaming down his cheek, sobbed, Dad, oh, Dad! Speak to me, please! In a weak voice, the father related how he had struggled with his assailant and had crawled from the tracks as the train came shrieking forward. The body found had been the thug's. The card probably had dropped from Welton's pocket during the tussle. But dad, why didn't you return home? inquired the son, kissing the worn face of his father. The dying man gasped faintly, Do not think that I cruelly deserted you. I had to go. I had done wrong-what it was does not matter now. The death of the thug made it possible -more faintly he spoke- for me-to-bury- myself. I-have watched your career- -Forgive- --. His story ended in a whisper. Breathing heavily, he whispered again, For- give and closed his eyes. MARGARET PAGANI, '28 Sixteen ...,.. 1928 i- - ig...