Holbrook High School - Echo Yearbook (Holbrook, MA)

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14 THE ECHO ITEMV THE LONESOME ROAD It was the day before Christmas in the year 1920, yet there was little winter in the thin air of Wayne in the Blue Grass region of Kentucky. Far, far away the distant hills showed faint patches of snow; but the rich, rolling lands were red-brown and glistened with frost specks in the morning sun. In the small courtroom a tenseness filled the air in strange contrast to the peace and color outside. Slowly the judge rose from his chair and facing the prisoner, a tall grave young: man who stood with one hand in the bosom of his shirt, clearly pro- nounced the sentence, ‘‘Prisoner at the bar, the jury finds you guilty of train robbery, and I pronounce the sentence as ten years of labor.” A quiver passing over the face of the young man, and the tightly clenched firsts were the only visible signs of the blow which had fallen upon him. Picture after picture flashed before him in that brief time as he stood there awaiting sentence; the long hunt for his wayward brother, the train journey south, the hold-up, his recog- nition of the brother as one of the masked robbers, the wrested mask and revolver in his hand as he covered his brother’s flight upon the rush of the deputy’s posse, his ar- rest, trial, and now ten years along the lonesome road alone. Many years after, the doors swung open for the prisoner, Tom Carr, and he passed into the world again, free. Yet it was p ' ood to live, to feel the soft breeze, to hear the birds about him on every side, to see the soft sunlight, and to know best of all that he was free to all of these just as any- one else. He knew he was not guilty, and nerhans sometime the hands of Providence would point out a way to clear himself in the eyes of these people. He would fight it down and stay here among them until he f ' ould prove to them that he was not the “outlaw they judged him.” The bright glare of the morning’s sun shone upon his uncovered head as he stood deep in thought, rapidly reviewing all that had passed since that morning ten years ago, until the present time. He summed up the good and the bad, and asked himself if life were worth the living, and as he felt the warm air, and as the sweet moist grass brought upon him a feeling of quiet and freedom, his thoughts asserted themselves, “Yes, it was good to live.” For a long time he stood very still, drink- ing in the clean fresh air, until a soft, whining sound caused him to glance down- ward to the road at his feet. There lay a ragged, little, yellow dog, nose between his paws and whose honest brown eyes held themselves to the eyes of the man. A tat- tered little beggar, whose one time coat of long, silky brown hair was now matted with burrs and pieces of briar. For a few seconds the eyes of the man and dog seemed to be searching one another; then, ps Tom bent and patted the shapely head, the animal leaped upon him with little short barks of delight. The long road ahead beckoned and called to the man as it gleamed white in the morning’s sun and lost itself far away in the low hills, and unconsciously he started on, the little dog every now and then rubbing softly against his legs. Mile after mile they trudged, the little dog al- ways at heel, although many times his pager brown eyes had wandered, and his b’ttle legs had ached for a good run among the tall grasses. The sudden whirring of wine’s over his head made him give voice to his feelings in a short, sharp bark and Tom. his senses rushing to earth again, realized his companionship. Letting him- self down upon the grass beside a clear running stream of cold water, he gathered the patient little animal to him and re- moved the burrs and briars from the rough coat, saying all the time, “And so you want to go with me. Are you all alone? Don’t anybody want you? Won’t anyone fped you?” No! as a bark answered him. “Well then, I do. Let us be pals, chums. You stick by me, and I’ll stick by you. No one else to do it. H’mm, chums, Chummy. Well, you’ve got to have some sort of a name so let it be “Chummy”, and here- after I belong to you, and you to me.” A frenzied racing around in circles, back and forth, a riot of barks and finally “Chum-

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THE ECHO 13 RIDICULOUS RHYMES OF SOME SOPHOMORE Near sighted Andrew, Oh didn’t he start When he found a big wasp in his raspberry tart. Aimable Anne always grins Even when Lillian is sticking in pins. Industrious Dot Shipley, the top of the school, Just look with what pleasure she learns a new rule. Beautiful Eleanor I’m sorry to say Stares in the looking glass ’most all the day. Sunshiny Flossie she smiles all day long And meets every trouble with jest and with song. Terrible Hayden, with sword and with gun, He looks just as fierce as a regular Hun. Elegant Helen is much too fine To fasten a worm on the end of her line. Jovial Marion J. will never complain, If they pull out a tooth, she says, “Do it again.” Good natured Virginia, she gives all her chums Her sweets and her cake, and keeps only the crumbs. Victorious Wiggins is always so wise, At the end of the term he will win every prize. Kind hearted Rita, so gentle is she, The flies on the paper she loves to set free. Frolicsome Parker thinks it a joke To give all the wasps in their nest a poke. Dorothy Mills, ’31. The second assembly of the Sophomore class was a huge success. The first num- ber was a salute to the flag led by Bruce Grindle, the sophomore class president. The orchestra gave several selections. Mr. Belcher of Randolph then gave a speech on the topic of habits. After Mr. Belcher’s speech, the boys of the sophomore class presented the play, Julius Caesar, a bur- lesque representation. The characters were as follows: Caesar. Bruce Grindle; An- thony, Harry Wiggins; Brutus, Malcolm Andrews; Casca, E. Hayden; Lucius, Ev- erett Hayden; and Trebonius, Carl Rosen- quist. After the play the orchestra gave several more selections. SENIORS Senior girls are pretty and gay, Laughing and talking all the day. Senior boys are big and tall, Studying and planning, Algebra and all. What if the girls giggle and laugh, Powder, and study their lessons by half? What if the boys the teachers tease, Skip “P. M.” and do as they please? They’re our very own Senior Class Every one, each lad and lass. They work hard for ambitions high. These may change, but they never die. This year now they enter the world. Flinging out wide their banners now furled. Years and years may by us pass, Ever they’ll be “OUR SENIOR CLASS.” E. Hill, ’29. ECHOES Everybody cheered As from the battlefield of France Came the ECHO Of the new signed peace. A lone rider calls And from the blue ridged mountain peaks Comes the ECHO Of that far away call. Sumner High School calls And from their staff twice a year Comes the “ECHO”— Of bright knowledge and cheer. “Echo dough” the collectors call And from students pockets twice a year, Comes the ECHO Of bright money that’s dear. Stanley White, ’30. WINTER CLOUDS Oh, clouds that blow across the wintry sky, Why scurry you so madly to and fro? I’m sure I don’t know whither do you go So tell me, cloudlets, as you pass me by. For I, mere human being- that I am, Would like to know the travels that you take, And why you wildly blow by in the wake Of some quick gust that’s gone as soon’s it came. And, queer little clouds, though often not so small But that you soak the earth in drenching rains, I needs must know just how you came at all. But — oh, your’re gone, and so, for all my pains, My pride does trip and take a headlong fall. For I don’t know now why clouds should wax and wane. M. Regan, ’31. Dorothy Brown, ’30.

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THE ECHO 15 my” lay stretched beside his master with his cold nose close to the hand that lay on the warm grass. There were long shadows slanting to the eastward when Tom arose, and followed by faithful “Chummy” sought the long road again, the lonesome road which threaded its way to the hills, upon which Tom now cast his eyes. The rays of the sun threw a gleam of gold and brightness, and as the far away bells chimed, there came to him those words “Lift up thine eyes unto the Hills”. Yes, the hills were calling and per- haps there, away among the heights he might work out his salvation, so straight- ening his shoulders, whistling “Chummy” to heel, he strode forth, head high in the air, confident that something greater lay ahead of him. Nightfall found the two travellers at the door of a low, rambling ranch house which settled itself comfortably in the center of a wide valley. There had been no cloud even with the falling sun, just a blue and purple mystery over all the world, and with its calm and sweetness, strength come down upon Tom as he stood there. Pausing a moment he cast a backward glance along the narrow road over which he had just passed. “Goodbye, lonesome road,” he murmured as he pushed open the ranch house door when a bright invitation to enter came in answer to his sharp rap. Three years had flown by since Tom Carr and his dog “Chummy” had become part of the ranch life. Three peaceful, happy years, during which Tom had become more like a son to Mr. and Mrs. Webster, the ranch owners. Thoroughly bound up in the ranch life, Tom, in that short time, had learned all of the ins and outs of a busy, successful horse ranch. Loved and respected by all of the men, he found that Mr. Webster leaned more and more upon him in the transactions of business, and little Mrs. Webster took him to heart in place of her own son who had passed on years before. Somehow within the last few months Tom had felt a change in the home life about him, and Mr. Webster seemed thoughtful and worried, and the old fa- miliar smile seldom curled around the cor- ners of his mouth. More than once he had found the little lady of the house in tears, which she hastily wiped away at his ap- pearance. Tom returning from the pas- ture one day earlier than usual entered the long living room and found the owners sitting in silence, dismay and fear pictured on both their faces as a tall, arrogant man paced back and forth the length of the room. The words, “mortgage and money due,” catching Tom’s ears he turned to Mr. Webster who related how he had borrowed money over a period of years from this man, giving a mortgage on the ranch and property in order to help his brother who had stolen a large amount of money and was trying to make restitution. Now the money on the loan was long overdue, and just a few weeks’ time was allowed before the foreclosure of the mortgage. Bewildered, Tom did his best to quiet the fears of the ranch couple, and as the loan shark left the house, Tom promised him the money in a month’s time. As he entered the stables, he heard the whining of the three-year old colt which he had raised from a baby, three years of petting, teaching, training, until the young horse had become familiar to all around there as a promising youngster. Like a flash the thought came to him, “Why not enter ‘Nigger’, his little black racer, in the coming races at Rodes, where ranchers came from miles around, and where a large purse was offered for the special three year old class.” He would make a flying trip to Rodes the next morning and enter his little horse, then start a rigid course of training; so rubbing the soft nose as the horse sidled his head against his arm, Tom closed the door of the box stall with a cheery heart. News of the entry of his horse soon flew around the country and many good natured quips Tom took from the neighboring ranchers. The week before the race found Tom driving the colt into the stall, after a brisk rub down, following an hour of rigid train- ing. Leaving Chummy on guard for the night he slowly entered the house, his mind intent on the coming race and what win- ning would mean to them all. As the peace and calm of midnight hov- ered over the ranch a band of mauraders led by the notorious bandit Gyp Carr, (whose pilferings had long been a trial to the surrounding ranchers; and the mention of whose name, had often brought a wave of fear into Tom’s heart) slid out of the dark, each bearing in his arm a bundle of straw. Chummy’s quick ear caught the strange footsteps and he called again and again for his master with loud, sharp barks. With an oath the leader rushed in- to the stable, and heaving a heavy billet of wood struck the faithful dog to the floor. Restlessly the black colt stamped back and forth for a heavy odor of smoke was filtering through the cracks of the building, and now the crackling of burn- ing timbers could be plainly heard. Cautiously the thief onened the door of the stall, but the flying hoofs kept him at a distance. He wanted the horse. But how could he get him? The fire which had gained headway so rapidly had driven the colt into a frenzy of fear. Dropping on to his hands and knees, the thief started to crawl along the outside of the stall to try to catch the colt unawares. A fierce rush- ing hurled him against the splintered door,