Grants Pass High School - Toka Yearbook (Grants Pass, OR)

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0 (Sly? auka ‘ My, but you have a lot of pockets,” the lad declared enviously, as he finished the jacket and took up the coat. ‘‘You have overlooked an inside one,” the Colonel advised as he closely and critically followed the operation from his point of vantage. ‘‘And now are you sure the snake isn’t in the clothes?” the millionaire asked anxiously. ‘‘Sure,” Tommy replied. The Colonel received his clothes and slipped them on cautiously. Then he ventured to the floor. At his request the boy made a careful inspection of his shoes, after which he put them on. Both made a careful search of the room. Upon the Colonel’s suggestion, Tommy took the quilts and blankets from the bed and shook them out of the window. While the boy was thus engaged his older brother passed below on the way to the barn. This older brother knew that something was wrong—otherwise Tommy would not be shaking the bed clothes through the window at six in the morning. He feared the distinguished guest had spent a restless night because of having ventured too near the pig sty or the dog kennel. He came up close under the window and threw aloft the wuispered inquiry: “Fleas, Tommy?” Tommy shook his head negatively, and the older brother disappeared. After searching every crack and corner. Tommy and the millionaire gave up in despair. The snake was gone—had disappeared completely. The boy’s father called from the cow lot, and the lad bolted swiftly downstairs. The Colonel followed more slowly. When he reached the foot of the narrow stairs he was startled by cries of terror from the kitchen. In a moment Tommy’s sister dashed through the door, screaming wildly: A snake! A snake! There’s a big snake in the kitchen!” The Colonel tried to console her with the assurance that the reptile would do no harm—that it was no doubt only a timid little garter snake which had crept into the house to find a safe retreat from the cats. Tommy heard his sister’s screams and understood at once. He returned quickly to the house, armed with his two forked sticks and the baking powder can. “Where is the snake?” he inquired innocently. “Under the cupboard, the girl directed. The boy went boldly in, followed by the Colonel. Sure enough there it was—twelve inches of red-and-green striped tail protuding from under the cupboard. “You’ll have to hold the can again,” Tommy instructed. Then he thrust the fork of the long stick over the snake’s body, and stuck the shorter one over its nevk. When it had ceased wriggling, tne Colonel laid the open can near its head and it slid quickly in. The boy clapped on the cover and was off toward the garden, eager to give the captive Its freedom. After breakfast Tommy was called before the family court, where the judge and head of the household presided with a long hickory; but the big-hearted Colonel pleaded eloquently in the boy’s behalf, and punishment wfas indefinitely postponed.

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(Taka 7 Tommy chattered till sleep closed his lips. The moon came up over the piues, and the stream of light through the window revealed a smile of boyish happiness on his face. The cloak of wealth fell from the millionaire as he gazed into the face of the soundly sleeping lad. He tucked the cover around the boy, and turned over gently lest he disturb him. When the Colonel awoke it was broad day. Through the open window came the squealing of pigs, the bawling of calves, and the clutter of industrious hens. Tommy was up and scrambling industriously around the room. He moved the trunk from the wall and the stand from the corner, looking under and behind them as if in search of something. He raised the window blinds and rubbed his hands along the casing. He picked up the goat rug and combed his fingers through the long mohair. He crawled under the bed and rubbed exploring hands over the rag carpet. The Colonel sat up and wondered. Finally he interrupted the boy’s explorations with the question: “What’s the matter, Tommy, lost something? His mind went back to the days when his boy heart was all but broken through the loss of a favorite marble or jack knife. “Snake’s got out,” Tommy replied simply. With an activity that was marvelous for one of his age and avoirdupois, the Colonel leaped straight up, and stood in the middle of the bed. He was become of the startling suspicion that the reptile was between the sheets. “Has he been out long?” the Colonel asked. “Don’t know,” the boy replied. “Been out most all night, I expect— can’t find him anywhere.” The Colonel felt a peculiar quiver under his feet. He emitted a smothered howl and leaped to one corner of the bed. “I believe he’s under tne covering,” he exclaimed. “I felt him wiggle.” “That was just a spring in the mattress,” consoled the lad. He isn’t in the bed—he couldn’t climb the posts—they’re too slippery.” This information brought great relief to the Colonel. It was not altogether satisfactory, however, in that it was not very definite. If the snake was not in the bed it was somewhere in the room. “Will you please hand me my trousers. Tommy; they’re hanging over there on that chair. My coat and jacket are there, too.” Tommy paused midway of the room with the millionaire’s wardrobe dragging the floor. “I was Just thinking,” he remarked. “What was you thinking. Tommy?” “That he might have crawled into your pockets. Snakes are queer about crawling into places.” If the boy had told the Colonel his clothes were loaded with dynamite he could not have given the rich man a more severe shock. “Take them back,” Colonel Miller implored, when the lad held them over the bed. “Take them to the window and shake them—search the pockets—do anything to ascertain if the snake is in them.” Tommy dragged the clothes over to the window and began a systematic search of the pockets. He went first through the trousers, even thrusting his arm through the legs, that no possible hiding place would be overlooked. Then he took up the jacket and searched it, inside and out.

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9 U,tjr Uuifca •pnifUipr’a $g Jamrs (fcrut»?B E was hungry. That is not an alarming condition when one is within easy reach of a restaurant or the home table. But hungry, cold and not over clean in a little Wisconsin settlement, without a cent in one’s pocket is, to anyone but your professional tramp, an embarrassing position. It was in just that situation that Tom Hamilton found himself one summer morning not so many years ago. He had been up in the mountains hunting and fishing with his friends and two Ipdian guides. They had spent three or four weeks among the famous troi0 streams of Wisconsin and were now returning home. They had walked part of the way and ridden the rest in excruciating wagons and over diabolic roads—or no roads at all; had made friends with two noble red men who se y d them as guides in the ways that were dark to their city trained eyes, and whose admiration they had won by their skill in catching the sparkling beauties and by their appreciation of Indian cookery. They were learned in all wood and water craft and wore solemn, mysterious expressions, as though they had promised nature not to betray any of her secrets. They were strong, not lazier than their white brothers, did not drink, told the truth, when it was not too great an inconvenience, and would have been passably good Christians but for their heretical views on the subject of cleanliness, and their firmly grounded objections to the use of comb and brush. At last these pleasure seekers separated. They had worked harder and endured more in their search for rest and pleasure than they had ever done; but they had had a splendid time. Tom’s vacation had not quite ended, so he was to remain a little longer. They tried to persuade him to go; but he said, “No, boys, let me stay as long as I can with my original mother and my aboriginal brothers. No conventionalities to bother me, no pie to haunt my dreams—and all the freedom of solitude!” Jim Hunt suggested that mosquitoes answered every purpose, but Tom was in too ecstatic a frame of mind to hear. But a succession of misfortunes befell Tom. First, John, who had promised faithfully to be his companion for another week, suddenly changed his mind. A red brother had notified him of another party who wanted a guide, and he showed his business talent by performing the work that had the most money in it. This he denied, however; said he was much tired,” but as he ate well and looked capable of tearing the very trees up by their roots, Tom had grave doubts as to his weariness, but the red man repeated the statement with a face so solemn, and an accent so impressive, that Tom believed, knowing all the time he lied. The next day he discovered that he had lost his purse. He had had It out of his pocket when he settled” with John, though he remembered