Gordon Bell High School - Purple and Gold Yearbook (Winnipeg, Manitoba Canada)

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50 GORDON BELL HIGH SCHOOL Suddenly my attention was drawn to an elderly man who walked as though he had some definite purpose. His clothes had been fine in their day but were now threadbare. Upon observing him more closely I saw that he was not so poverty-stricken as I had supposed, for in his hand was an ebony-colored, gold- mounted walking stick. What could a beggar be doing with a gold-mounted walking stick? Somehow the walking stick did not seem in keeping with his clothes. This thought and his strangeness and purposeful look at once aroused my curiosity, and I was seized by one of those impulses which come over every individual at some time or other. Hurriedly taking my hat and coat, I ran from the shop and dashed after him. For what exact reason I do not know. I simply resolved that I would follow him until I had discovered his business, not that I am usually of a curious nature, but in this case I felt justified. I wore rubbers and thus the sound of my padding feet did not attract his attention. The crowds were now thinning out, and consequently I had little trouble in keeping him in view from a sufficient distance behind. Finally, he turned down a harrow street and then began to take such devious routes that I am unable to recount them, as I was not familiar with the streets of that Wonderful city. His travels took him, or us I should say, down several alleys, some of them so dark and foreboding that I was almost minded to give up my foolish intentions and return home. I did not, however, but kept determinedly on my way, hoping that my efforts would be brought to a successful conclusion. What sort of conclusion I did not know, rather let us say that I hoped my eve¬ ning would not prove uneventful. Finally my meditations were brought to an end by a distinct change in the behaviour of my man. Up to now he had been walking with a bent back, so hunched that he would ordinarily have excited pity. Now he straightened up and walked with head erect, but only along deserted streets. We now entered one of the important business streets on which there were few people at this Now my curiosity was aroused to the fullest degree, for I was positive that the object of my attentions was bent on some unlawful business. His fast walk brought him to a large jewellery store, which I knew to be one of the most prominent in the city. He stopped in front of it. At this moment I was startled by the booming of a nearby clock, which proclaimed the hour of nine. At the same moment I leapt back into the shadow of some buildings on my right and began to watch the man whose intentions were becoming clearer. Was he a crook after all? I thought I knew the look of the breed, but had not seen any trace of such a nature in his face. Instead, he looked like one to be respected. Finding no answer to my question, but knowing it would answer itself in the next few minutes, I drew further back and watched him with growing excitement. The stranger now took a shiny instrument from his pocket and began to make an incision in the glass of the shop. Up to this moment, the thought of a policeman had not entered my head; now I had looked around, but in vain. I have always been of a timid nature, having never distinguished myself in the paths of bravery, and therefore, I must be forgiven if I did not take the course most citizens would have taken. My lack of courage, however, did not deter me from at least trying to bring about the capture of this man. It would be comparatively easy, I thought, to follow him to his rendezvous, and thus bring him to justice. The stranger by this time having removed most of the expensive gems in the window, set off at his same brisk, yet unhurried walk. I waited for a few seconds and then ran silently after him, bobbing in and out of doorways so as to keep concealed as much as possible. This continued for quite a while, the street being a long one. Suddenly my man turned down an alley. I ran with all my speed, rounded the corner—but he had disappeared. I was heartily dis¬ couraged and was contemplating what to do next when I was roughly seized from behind. To my dismay it was a policeman.

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GORDON BELL HIGH SCHOOL 49 LIT Foreword An essential portion of the school curriculum is the fostering and encour¬ agement of literary endeavor by the students. Therefore, a “Short Story and Poem Competition” was held in conjunction with the Year Book. It was an¬ nounced that outside judges would be secured, but unfortunately this was im¬ possible. Accordingly, a group of impartial teachers offered to judge the stories and poems. Following the poems is a brief summing-up of the quality of the stories and poems handed in. It is by Miss Laidlaw. The Passerby By LOVELL CLARKE WAS an early autumn evening. I sat at the window of a London coffee shop. I had been ill for some time, but was now convalescing, and felt at peace with the world in general. Only one thing remained to mar my happiness, and ' that was the lack of funds. Finally I laid aside the newspaper which I had been reading and began to watch the throngs which now packed the fast-darkening street. It was one of the busiest streets of London, and as it was about six o’clock, it was filled with people of all descriptions—noblemen, business men, clerks, tradesmen, pick-pockets, gamblers, invalids and beggars. With all these different classes of people passing in front of me, it is not unnatural that I began to watch them and observe everyone with growing interest. Some were dressed flashily, some ornately, and others shabbily. Some walked briskly, some moder¬ ately, and others as slowly as if they were entirely oblivious of their surround¬ ings. No less interesting were their faces, which I was now able to observe, the street lamf s having been lit. Their characters were clearly stamped on their features, and their habits in their carriage. The slouch of the gambler and the hang-dog look of the cheap crook belied them at once, and I wondered how they could ever be mistaken for anything but what they were.

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GORDON BELL HIGH SCHOOL “Nearly got away, eh?” he said. “You didn’t have a chance. I was watching you all the time.” Horrified at this condemnation, I protested, and continued my protestations tor several blocks, the officer saying nothing but bundling me along all the while in an exceedingly rough manner. Finding that he would not listen to me, I cursed him for the blundering fool he was and resigned myself to my fate. Fifteen minutes’ walk brought us to the police station, where began the most nerve-racking experience I have ever undergone. It was a virtual third degree. First one would ask a question, then before I could answer another would start. Indeed their object seemed to be to confuse me so that my an¬ swers were of absolutely no value to them. When I attempted to protest against this treatment I received a well directed blow on the head. After an hour or so of this useless procedure, I was consigned to a bare cell until further information was unearthed. The coming of the next day brought with it more questioning and finally my release from prison on insufficient evidence. One would suppose that I would have been glad to get out of this escapade unharmed, but on the contrary. My ardor was heightened and I determined that I would track the thief to his hideout. My interest was increased, too, by the offer of a reward to the per¬ son who apprehended the thief. It was a considerable amount and nobody needed it more than I did. There being nothing else to do in the afternoon, I retraced my steps to the alley down which the culprit had turned. This alley was crossed by another. One branch of the latter led to the main street and the other into the slums. Since it was unlikely that he would show himself on a main street, I took the one which led in the other direction. After a good deal of thinking and no little deduction, my wanderings brought me to a vacant house which stood at the end of an obscure lane. I was positive that it was the one he must have en¬ tered, if any. I searched it, but found nothing. The stranger had planned his retreat well. Having thus come to a blank wall and having gathered practically no clues, I returned home. An interval of about two weeks passed. By that time I had almost forgotten my adventure, my mind being occupied in the meantime with business affairs. Another week passed, and having a little time at my disposal, I sat reflect¬ ing on the incident which came to my mind. I pictured every detail trying to make things fit, but with little success. My interest became greater the longer I thought upon the gold mounted walking stick! It couldn’t be mistaken. I re¬ solved at once to start again my search for the thief. The first snow fall had covered the city. I was walking home after a hard day’s work and was in the midst of the crowd which I had observed so closely a month or so previously. I walked with my hands in my coat pockets and my head bent. I was in a pensive mood, and heard neither the bustle of the crowd nor the traffic. I was aroused by an object which passed in front of my eyes. It was a gold mounted walking stick. Expectantly I looked up. It was not he. Instead it was a young man of medium height with lank fair hair. He did not in the least resemble the one I had expected it to be. A fortnight passed. I was at a party which was be ing held by the proprietor of the same jewellery store I had seen robbed. I had never been introduced to him, having come to the party only at a friend’s invitation. The owner was none other than the young man I had seen before. We shook hands. My sus¬ picions were immediately aroused. My hopes arose accordingly, but fell at the same moment. A jeweller robbing his own store! Perfectly ridiculous! Try as I would, I could find no further clue. I pondered upon these things for the rest of the evening, but it was not until I was leaving that I got any nearer the solution. The umbrellas had been placed in the hall, and among them was the gold-mounted walking stick. Upon examining it I was sure that it was the one I had seen in the hands of the stranger.