Hanover High School - Hanoverian Yearbook (Hanover, MA)

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24 THE HANOVERIAN A RIDE FOR LIFE I became acquainted this fall with a certain morose young man who called himself Peter Hunt. He had been a student of' the old Technical School Building at Buddle Lake, which burned in the middle of the night during an exceedingly dry fall, three years ago. He himself was snatched from the brink of death by a brave fireman, who seeing him gesticulating madly from a win- dow hurried up his ladder and carried him to safety, but his bosom friend,,John Johnston, was burned to death in the flames. Peter Hunt, who had been a jovial young man before his friend's death, then became a morbid fellow, and often went for long, lonely camping trips into the forest surrounding V mountain, an extinct volcano. He offered to take me along with him as he wanted a witness to the scene of a mystery he hoped to be able to disclose. As I was worn out with a long siege of hard work, I joyfully accepted the opportunity for a vacation. We wandered for three days in a mountainous, forested wilderness, while Peter Hunt was scenting the lay of the land. The fourth day we found ourselves well to the north of V moun- tain, following a tiny stream, which was leading us towards the old volcano. About noon Peter Hunt suddenly decided to pitch camp. We entered a bare spot in the woods, in which were three or four charred tree stumps. He brought out an expensive as- bestos canoe, which was his own peculiar invention. Stopping abruptly in his operations, he asked, Does it seem possible to you that a man can dream of a real place and dream about it so vividly that he can recall even the narrowest details most accurately ? I have never heard so, I replied. But perhaps you had visited the place in childhood and had forgotten ever having seen it. But I did dream of a place which I had really never seen, on that night of the fire three years ago, and only today I have found the scene of my dreams. This is where it all began, right here, where We were camping the day of the big forest fire- What forest lire? There has been no forest fire near V mountain for years. Nevertheless, there was a forest fire here in my dreams. Those charred stumps yonder mark the spot of our camp. Let us go down the river in the canoe, and as We go, I will tell you what happened to us in our terrible ride for life.

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THE HANOVERIAN 23 blankets back and picked up a large doll. Grouchy stared, the lady stared. Then the angry woman burst into a tirade against the stingy old man. The poor fellow had forgotten it was April Fools' day. Helen Graham, '28. THE EXTREME OF FASHION I suppose I really must have a new suit, Professor Dans- berry reluctantly asserted to himself. I don't know how long I have had this one but it's worn almost threadbaref' The Professor, a tall, thin man with gray hair and old fashion spectacles perched back on his somewhat high forehead, sat in a large, roomy chair in the school library. His lap was full of books, the contents of which he had been greedily absorbing. Clothes were something, as his appearance showed, which he regarded as a matter of course, but every so often he decided he must buy something new, and this happened to be one of the days. So he hastily placed his hat on his head and started to town. On his way his mind was so absorbed in the literature which he had been reading that he noticed no one who passed him, even though they spoke to him. Presently, the professor came to a dry-goods store, and went in. One of the clerks amusedly waited on him while he bought a suit of black and white check, with splashes of green and other bright colors, here and there. It was evidently intended for a masquerade. - After searching several minutes for his wallet he finally found it in a pocket of his vest, which was on Wrong side out. He paid the clerk and taking up the bundles which were on the counter prepared to leave, not realizing that he had taken one which belonged to a lady standing near. Professor Dansberry walked back to the school and absent- mindedly donned the contents of the bundles. When he entered the classroom with an armful of books he gazed innocently at each laughing face. But who could blame them for laughing ?-for the professor was wearing the new suit minus collar and necktie and-a green silk petticoat. Laura A. Whiting, '27.

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THE HANOVERIAN 25 Immediately we embarked and Peter began his tale as he paddled us swiftly down-stream. John and I had gone camping to this very place, which I remember distinctly as the starting off place of my dream. For three days, we had been having a fine time. Horror came with the fourth. Early in the morning I called J ohn's attention to the smoke of a distant forest fire. 'It is so dry,' I said, 'We would be safer along the edge of the lake. If the wind should rise-' but he scoffed at me. 'You're a fool to want to go back now,, he said. 'That fire is miles away. And, besides, this stream probably enters a lake or a swamp down below? I gave in, but had no wish to go on our planned hunting trip. I felt strangely uneasy, wanted to stay by the water, and wished all the time that we were safe at home. Night settled down, dark and humid and still. Heat lightning flashed in the distance, the glow of forest fires was all around us. The time, as you must remember, was in the early part of Sep-- tember, during a drought, the length and severity of which this country had never known before. After hours of wakefulness, I fell into a troubled sleep, lulled by a. gently rising breeze. I was awakened late in the morning by aloud cry. John was sitting up. He pointed a trem- bling finger towards the west. I stared, then began to shudder from head to foot. Our whole world was ablaze. The little cool- ing breeze had become a hot, fierce gale and was urging the big forest fire to our destruction. We were cut off from the lake, and our doom was sealed. 'Quickl' cried practical John. 'There is no time to lose. Get into the canoe. If the stream leads to a lake, we shall be saved.' I managed to rise and seat myself in the canoe, then I fell insensible. When I came to, we were already in a much wider stream, and going along swiftly without the aid of paddles. Before telling you anything more, I want to say our canoe was made of asbestos and was very similar to this one. To continue with my story, the stream had become quite broad and was taking a decided down-hill slant. We were ap- proaching a sharp bend in the river, which hid from sight every- thing beyond it. CLet us get out of the canoe, professor, before the current becomes too strong.J