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

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THE GOLD FIEND THE vast expanse of snow and ice stretched for untold miles in every direction, broken nowand then by small clusters of fir trees. The moon hung low in the horizon like a great yellow nugget of gold resting on the hills of snow. A thin column of smoke rose from a camp fire into the motionless atmosphere. All was silent save the distant howl of a timber wolf, letting all know that the ravages of famine were upon all the north. The scene would have been beautiful to one unaccustomed to the north. The parts being enacted around the camp fire (lost in this wilderness) would also seem queer to a stranger. A lone man was huddling close to its protection. He seemed weak with hunger and was fast losing hope. Encircling the fire were his own sled dogs and they looked threatening indeed. 1 here was not a full team as some had been lost before they had even penetrated this far into the desert of snow and ice. They had been abused and neglected by the one who was now nearly at their mercy. They hated him. The Southerner now realized what his greed for the yellow metal had brought him into. His mind wandered back in a sort of menacing dream over the past few weeks. All the events were brought to his mind one by one. He tried to check the flow of reveries but it was impossible. He had not heeded the warnings of those who knew. In his greed and to satisfy his desires he had plunged into this wilderness alone when no other would have dared to venture from the protection of the coast villages. On all the trip thus far he had spared neither himself nor dogs. Even though he had been forced to cut them out of the traces one after the other he had pushed on only lightening his load after each dog had fallen. When he had hoped to reach his destination safely by losing no time he had not thought of a rebellion of the starving, mistreated dogs. The huskies had formerly huddled close to the fire when a timber wolf gave his hunger cry, but now they went out to join the timber wolf as the bitter 8

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TOKA STAFF Allen Underwood 'I 7 Avis Knips '1 7 Deal Wilkins ' 18 Ella Anderson ' 18 Ted Birchard 18. Editor Robert Bestul ’ 18 I Maurice Wilkins 18 Loren Basler ’ 1 7 Vivian Isham ’ 18 Eleanor Bocock 'I 7 Ruth Giesler ‘ 18 Gladys Hood '20 Frank Price '19 Earl Pittenger '17 ' Miss Katharine Bridges i Mr. Herbert Wardrip CONTRIBUTORS Donald Offins, Irene Mercier, Mable Anderson. Eldon Wolfolk, Ila De Grass, Carmelita Pool, Helen Ellis, Frank Turpin, Ulda Basler, Edythe Robinson. TO those of you who are reading the Toka for the first time, a word of explanation is perhaps due. The Toka has for some years past been issued as an annual or year book by the Senior class. Formerly it was issued monthly by the associated students of all four classes, but of late years it has been published only once a year. A change is to be made next year, from this time forward the Toka Annual is to be published by the Junior classes. Consequently this year, we seniors being a kind hearted class, the Juniors have been allowed to publish this paper jointly with us, in order that they may not lose out entirely. Our High School is a standard school, teaching all the standard subjects, and graduation with certain specified subjects permits college entrance. Our organizations are many; we have foot-ball, base-ball, basket-ball, track, tennis and debate teams, glee-clubs and quartets, orchestras and bands, and all the minor organizations found in any High School. The plans for a large and long needed gymnasium are at present being drawn up, and beautification of the grounds has been begun. We may safely say that next year our High School will equal, in all respects, any High School in Oregon. Editor in Chief Assistant Editor Business Manager Assistant Manager Art Department Athletic Editor Music Editor Social Editor Local Editor Freshman Representative Sophomore Representative Joke Editor Faculty Advisors 7

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enemies of invading destructive man. As did the timber wolf, so did they keep a safe distance from the fire, each one waiting for the other to make the assault, but like the wolf they now feared the camp. Hours passed which seemed like days. I'he entrapped man was growing weaker, his fire was getting low, the dogs were venturing nearer. Not a moment was he without those menacing visions of a past life he had lived only for himself. Now he was entering on a dream of a long snowy trail, his eyes were open but he saw things not as they were. That glowing lunar orb was for him a yellow mass of gold. The heavens assumed the shape of a large cliff. Something seemed to strike him and though he struggled desperately to save himself he seemed to fall slowly, slowly into the depths. As he dropped ever downward that yellow mass would not be blurred from his vision. Suddenly he came to full consciousness, he saw what had struck him. The fire had died, the leader had made a plunge and sprung back. The ill-fated man tried to save himself but his first move brought the dogs upon him. Again the mass of gold seemed to come before his eyes. Only the welcomed death blow of one of the dogs blotted out that torturing vision that constantly reminded him he had given his life for the absolutely worthless, cause of all evil—GOLD. —DON OFF1NS. t t f f MUTUAL GENIUS IN a humble room, down one of the poorest streets of Paris, Annette, a motherless French girl, sat humming by the bedside of her sick father. There was no bread in the closet, and for the whole day she had not tasted food. Yet she hummed to keep up her spirits. Still at times, she thought of the lonliness and greater hunger that would follow if her father did not get well, for the meagre supply of money was nearly exhausted. When these thoughts entered her head the tears could hardly be kept back from her eyes. The little song she sung was her own—one she had composed with air and words. The simple melody full of pathos, spoke of the bravery and unselfishness of her nation’s war heroes; of their manly departure to fight through hardships and fierce struggles for the glory of France. It was not so much the words but the air that filled the heart with love and reverence for the tri-colored flag. Annette arose and went to the window. Looking out she saw a man putting up a great bill with yellow letters announcing that Madame’ Sarah Bernhardt would sing to the wounded soldiers that night at the great American ‘Red Cross' Hospital. Any of the public might attend who so wished. “If I could only go,” thought little Annette; then pausing a moment, she clasped her hands. Her eyes shone with a new hope. Running to the stand she smoothed her ruffled curls and taking from a little box an old stained paper, gave one glance at her father who slept, and ran from the house. 9