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

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10 GORDON BELL HIGH SCHOOL Second Prize Midge Earns His Bone By RENEE McGINLEY “AH dear,” sighed Elaine, “I wish it would stop raining.” v “As if you are the only one,” grumbled Tom. “Children! Children!” said Martha, the housekeeper. “You musn’t take on so. Don’t you know that this rain was sent ’specially down from Heaven to the poor little plants who have been so thirsty for days. Surely you don’t mind giving up your own pleasures for all the beautiful green things on this earth. Toby! Come here at once, sir”—this addressed to the cat who was busily investigating Martha’s balls of wool. “And—as I was saying, children, think what a poor world this would be, if we all thought only of ourselves. Oh dear,” she exclaimed—“I for¬ got all about the oven”—and rushed out of the room. “I wonder if Martha was born that way,” mused Tom. “Maybe she fell on her head when she was a-” “Tom,” cried Elaine, “you musn’t say such things. Although I have heard that old people go queer as they grow older.” “I c an think of a better word than ‘queer’,” Tom laughed. Tom and Elaine were seated in front of the big fireplace in the old house at Brome Lake. Their parents had gone to the city and were re¬ turning the following week. Dad had jokingly said that he left Elaine and Tom in Martha’s charge, and that she was to be sure that she took care of them. And take care of them Martha did, much to their disgust, for she had vetoed many of their picnicking plans. This particular morn¬ ing they had intended to visit Tony, Peter and Jean, who lived across the lake and who were their best friends. Tom and Elaine planned to row across, but, owing to the rain and wind Martha objected and forbade it despite all their protests. Hence their gloomy morning. It was now 11.30 and the rain showed no sign of abating. A dreary day was in prospect. After lunch, when the dishes had been cleared away and washed, Martha took up her knitting; presently her head drooped, and soon she was sound asleep. “Say,” exclaimed Tom, “what about sneaking out and going to Tony’s, anyway. Martha’s asleep and we can let the gardener know where we’ve gone?’ “I don’t know,” replied Elaine, slowly, “it doesn’t seem fair.” “Well, I don’t want to be cooped up in this house the whole day,” Tom retorted, “and I’m willing to take a chance on a lecture if you are.” “Oh, it’s not that I mind a lecture, but I don’t think it right to go out,” Elaine replied, and then, noting the grimace on her brother’s face— “All right, come on.” “As if I need telling,” said Tom, already making for his cap and coat. Tom and Elaine made their way to their boat and found it safe and sound, though anything but dry. Each grasped an oar and soon they were headed out into the wind-tossed lake. “I wonder if we should have come—it’s so hard to see in this storm,” said Elaine. “Oh, we’ll be all right,” her brother assured her as they rowed on. But Tom’s confident assertion was soon to prove wrong, for while they were still in deep water, though near to their destination, a violent gust of wind and an immense wave struck the boat, at the same time almost capsizing it. Desperately they tried to bring it on an even keel but a second wave completed the damage and they were in the water.

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GORDON BELL HIGH SCHOOL and west of Sorenson’s home stood two sections of waving Marquis wheat, golden in the sunshine, that would “go thirty bushels” and over to the acre. A big crop means a scarcity of men and horses. The men came from the cities on freight-trains—lacking in experience but filled with wanderlust and the need of money. One of these walked the nine miles to the Swedish homestead and asked for employment. He had no scruples when asked if he were experienced, though he had never driven a team in his life; and because the season was short and men were scarce he was given work driving a team on a rack. One of the horses in this team was “Old Dan.” Thus, in his tenth year, Old Dan was back pulling a heavy “stook-rack.” In an experienced teamster’s hands he could have held his own, but the ignorance of the city youth j was slowly killing him. With the threshing half done, there came a Saturday of terrific heat. I The sun beat down on the wheat fields and the fitful wind stirred up a fine dust, choking everything. It was a day when tempers were short, and, while Old Dan worked his gallant best, his teamster drove him brutally. After sundown, when the unhitching was done and the teams were fed, the old horse could scarely stand. In the autumn chill he shivered with weakness. The teamsters and engine crew were too weary from the terrific heat of the day and the long hours of constant labor to notice the peculiar stillness of the air or the jagged flashes of blue-green lightning on the western horizon. Their only interest was their supper and a bunk of hay in an empty granary in the field. The storm came with scarcely a warning. A few splashes of warm rain making little balls of dust on the ground, and then toy broke looose. The wind howled in from the west and swept everything before it. The cook shack rolled over and over and came to rest against the door of the granary that served as a bunk house and imprisoned the men inside. The horses, tied to the granary racks, tugged frantically at their halters as they noticed a new terror even more fearful than the raging wind and storm. The 1 overturned cook stove had set the shack afire and the flames were reaching out to the empty granary. Terror seized Old Dan’s heart in its grip. He knew he must get away from the dread killer, fire. Then, above the tumult of the storm he heqrd a voice, a voice he loved. “Dan! Old Dan!”—Sorenson calling him once again in his hour of need, Sorenson who had allowed him to be lashed and driven almost to death. But his master needed him; so he must go. With a mighty tug he tore loose the halter shank tied to the rack and turned to answer that call, “Dan—come here Dan, old Boy!” It came from inside; so he must get in. He trotted twice around the building, whose west wall was burning now. Then, suddenly, he started to kick—to kick down the wall-and reach the voice. Time after time the steel-shod hooves drove against the wooden siding, until they had smashed a hole for the men to escape. He turned around and tried to force his tired, old body through the opening to reach his master. But the old worn heart had stood too much already. He slowly sank to earth—and twenty choking, smoke-blinded men escaped death over the gallant body of Old Dan.

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GORDON BELL HIGH SCHOOL 11 Tom came struggling to the surface. “Elaine,” he yelled, “Elaine,” but no answer came back to him. “Elaine,” he called again, but there was no reply. In the little house Jean, Tony and Peter sat talking. Midget, the huge Newfoundland dog and their constant companion, dreamed of juicy bones in front of the fire, Peter the Great, a little water spaniel, named after his young master, beside him. Suddenly the great dog started, barked excitedly and ran almost in a frenzy to the door, closely followed by the diminutive Peter. “Let him out quickly Tony, something’s the matter,” said Jean. The door being opened, Midget dashed madly on to the beach. Jean and Peter, snatching hats and coats, followed Midget’s lead, while Peter the Great tore around in circles, adding to the general confusion. “Look,” said Tony, pointing out in the lake, “there’s an overturned boat, let’s hurry.” Tony and his sister clambered into their own boat and Peter the Great bounded in after them. But Midget had taken the way he knew best and was already swimming at top speed to the overturned boat. Coming abreast of it they recognized Tom. “Where’s Elaine?” cried Jean as the almost exhausted boy was hauled to safety. “I don’t know,” panted Tom, “though I’ve yelled myself hoarse,” Tony interrupted with a whoop of delight. “There she is, good old Midge found her.” “Whatever brought you out on such a day” said Jean as Tom and Elaine in dry clothes enjoyed the fire’s heat. So they told her all about it. And Tom finished with: “But if it hadn’t been for old Midge we might have been out there,” pointing to the lake. “Woof,” barked Midge lazily, as if to say, “don’t you think I’ve earned a bone?” Third Prize Decreed by Fate By JACK COWAN I T was in the summer of T7, in a dirty, low-ceilinged, darkened room. A dead silence hung over the group of filthy, shabbily-clad men. Although the day was abnormally hot, every man present was experiencing what is known as a cold perspiration. A hat was being passed around from which each drew a slip of paper. Each man seemed afraid to look at the paper which he had drawn. Then came a short, hoarse cry from a young man who was of a somewhat better appearance. Byron Collet was little more than a boy, although already he was weary of the life which had treated him so unkindly. He had been robbed of both his parents by a fire when he was a very young lad. Then for the next seven years he had been brought up in an orphanage where he had been brutally treated, chiefly because his proud spirit had never bowed to the harsh treatment of the staff. At the age of fifteen he had run away. For the next four years he had spent his time either searching for some kind of employment or trying to hold the small occupation which he had obtained. Fortune, however, did not give him a square deal and at the age of twenty he became so dejected that he resigned himself to the fact that he was a no-good, and so became just a plain every-day “bum.”