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

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“Marie! came again, roughly. “Do you think I shall stand quietly by and see you favor that young fool, your cousin ? Monsieur, she answers, icily, “that is entirely my affair. 1 am to marry my cousin within a week. My father, he wishes it, she adds, a trifle hopelessly it seems to him. The man turns away wearily. “1 see, he says in a quiet voice. “Our engagement was merely a little summer pastime for you, something to be conveniently forgotten when the time came. Very well—I'll not trouble you further. “Wait—Oh, please! Her tone is changed to entreaty now. “Well “Before you go—I must tell you the truth if they kill me for it. My wishes have nothing to do with this marriage—it is my father's command, and girls of France must obey their parents.” She stops a moment, then adds fiercely, hate my cousin Pierre ! She stands facing him, white and trembling, as young Pierre Gasquet enters the room. “So! he says, his face black with rage. You hate your cousin Pierre, do you? We shall see what Cousin Pierre can do! There is a moments struggle between the two men, a flash of steel—and the girl, throwing herself before McDaniels, catches the blow. In the flickering light young Pierre and the American stand gazing at each other with dazed eyes over the fallen form of Marie. “Honk ! Honk ! Honk !” 1 raised my head—the same feeble ray of sunlight showed the rusty firearms, the broken chairs, the old organ with its cobwebs and dust. In the distance an automobile horn sounded impatiently the signal for my return, bringing me rudely from the far distant past to the present. It was only a dream after all. Before leaving the place I happened to glance down at the floor before the organ, and I saw, barely perceptible on the rotting floor, a dark stain. Then I turned and left the old cabin with its memories. —LOIS DALE. 15. 12

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house. Louder and louder grew the strain—the very words seemed shouting themselves from every corner and recess of the room. Surely the old organ must be enchanted ! “To arms, to arms, ye brave ! The avenging sword unsheath !” Weaker and weaker grew the strain, at last dying away altogether. A strange drowsiness was overcoming me, resistless, overpowering. In vain 1 fought against the feeling. Almost falling off the stool, I rested my head in my folded arms on the old organ—and all was darkness. Swelling, swelling, filling the air with its martial ring, the sound of a thousand fiddles playing “La Marseillaise.” A thousand? No; only the raspy old violin of Pierre Gasquet. But who could wish for better, with the wrinkled face of old Pierre fairly beaming in its patriotic fervor, and the voice of young Pierre, his nephew, rising clear and strong, proclaiming the freedom and glory of a country he has forsaken ? Now Pierre Gasquet has finished. He bows to the rough company, with that courtly manners which is his birthright, and listens complacently to the cries of approval. He is evidently accustomed to fame, this gray-haired musician. Pretty, petite Marie, his daughter, rises from the wonderful new organ on which she has been playing the accompaniment. She bows also; but what a difference! The coquette is expressed in every line of her, in the light of her sparkling dark eyes, in the demure fall of her lashes. Now for the dance ! Chairs and tables pulled back into obscurity, buxom waists seized without ceremony, a moment of suspense—and soon all are swinging and whirling around to the lively strains of Money Musk. No—not all. In the darkest corner sits young Jim McDaniels, owner of the richest placer in the country. He does not see the whirling maze of the dance nor the engaging smiles of gayly-gowned country belles; his whole gaze is centered on the dark, piquant face of Marie as she lightly treads the measure on the proud arm of her cousin Pierre. Pierre himself is not one to exult over a fallen enemy—not he! But he cannot help having a certain feeling of contentment that Marie chose him instead of the gloomy American. The dance goes on, and at last the curiously carved clock on the wall strikes twelve. Now the merriment is over. The crowd departs slowly and reluctantly from the scene of its festivities. At last all are gone from the room save two. In the dark corner still sits young McDaniels, and at the organ sits Marie, her fingers nervously playing a strain of “La Marseillaise. Marie! Yes, Monsieur? He has risen and is standing beside her now. Her face is coldly turned away, but the hand on the key trembles slightly. 11

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Debate After a few years of rest, made necessary by the superabundance of enthusiasm which the students had displayed and in which their energies were confined to inter-class debates, Grants Pass again entered the State Debating League. This time the High School had two teams in the field, a negative consisting of two members, Gladys Swacker and Cedric Marshall while Alva Nipper and Winfield Gilkey made up the affirmative. To James Wescott, the untiring and faithful coach, much of the success of the team is due. A Triangular Debate The first debate of the season which was of a triangular nature occurred on January twenty-ninth, Central Point, Myrtle Creek and Grants Pass being the participants. Central Point sent a negative team to Myrtle Creek who in turn sent a similar team here. Gladys Swacker and Cedric Marshall of Grants Pass supported the negative at Central Point. The question assigned for discussion was, Resolved, That the Federal Government should own and operate all interstate railroads and all intrastate lines competing with them. Constitutionality waived. Central Point opened the debate at that place, followed by Cedric Marshall, the first speaker on our team, whose thoroughly convincing arguments and forceful manner bespoke defeat for the Central Point team. Gladys Swacker, second speaker for Grants Pass, delivered her speech with the customary 13