Holbrook High School - Echo Yearbook (Holbrook, MA)

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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,

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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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16 THE ECHO as Chummy roused from his stupor, launched himself against the intruder. The door gave way and the thief fell headlong into the stall to be met with a terrific ham- mering from the flying feet of the black. The vivid light flaming into his window aroused Tom out of a sound sleep. Fire! The stable! The colt! These thoughts flashed through his mind as he plunged into his clothes and out of the door. By this time the stable was a mass of flames, and Tom could hear the whinnying of the colt as he raced back and forth in the stable. The boys on the ranch were run- ning from all directions, and the pop-pop of guns could be heard over the shouts of men and burning timbers. One heavy shove of the stable door, and Tom was within the blazing furnace and had reached the stall. Circling the flying feet with Chummy press- ing close to him, he blanketed the head of the frightened horse and coaxing, pleading, commanding, led him from the burning building. The week passed quickly. Quiet and kind- ness had brought the colt back to normal condition, and the day of the race was at hand. Bright colors, gay music, glistening coats of the racers, the creaking of leather, everywhere, merriment and happy faces. Tom, keyed to the highest point, kept be- side his horse, soothing and talking as the black restlessly pawed the earth. Billie, the little jockey, clung to his back watch- ing every move with his black bead-like eyes. The clanging bell from the judge’s stand brought them all together at the line, and after several false starts the race was on. Gaining the pole, the black held her posi- tion and horse and jockey in perfect team work nulled off the greatest race that Bodes had ever seen — three straight heats with hardly even turning a hair. That night in the living room of the ranch three hanpy neople sat in silence be- fore the huge fireplace as the leaping flames quickly consumed the cancelled mortgage. “My son.” said Mrs. Webster, turning to Tom with tears in her eyes, “for you shall be my son from now on, you can now face the world without fear, for one of the wounded raiders who was brought here the night of the fire has told that it was your brother who committed that train robbery for which you were sentenced. Your brother perished in the barn, and this man ad a written confession which he was hold- ing over him. A straight road lies ahead of you now, for you have won the road to all hearts.” “Yes,” answered Tom softly, “a lonesome road, but somehow, no matter how lone- some there are always the bright spots to cheer one on.” Myron Holbrook, THE ENSIGN’S ESCAPE Ensign Robert Grey, U. S. N., had been entrusted with an important message from the captain of his ship, the “Nevada”, which was in Shanghai harbor, to the American Consul in that city. As he rode through the crooked streets in the riksha which he had hired, he happened to notice that he was being followed by another vehicle of the same kind, in which sat a Chinaman in mandarin’s costume. However, he paid little attention to this, and arrived safely at the consulate, where he delivered his message. Coming out of the building he was surprised to find his riksha gone! At first he was undecided as to what he could do, but as there was no other way, he decided to walk; so he started out trying to remember the way by which he had come, and walked until he reached a Chinese shop. When he was almost opposite the door, two shots were fired from across the street, both missing him, but coming unpleasantly close. He hastily dodged into the shop, where the proprietor, a wizened old Chinaman, regarded him in apparent surprise. Grey told why he had come in so unceremoniously, and the old man, without questioning, pointed to a door at the back of the shop, and muttered, “Hide there, quick.” The ensign opened the door and went in- to a dark hallway; all that could be seen was a flight of rickety stairs going down. He descended, and found himself in a base- ment with nothing in it but several hideous Chinese idols, which he guessed to be part of the proprietor’s stock. Suddenly he beard a faint click above him, as if the door had been locked. Running up the stairs, he tried the door, and found it locked. He was a prisoner in the cellar of a Chinese shop. For perhaps an hour he remained there, trying without success to find a way out; then the door opened, and the mandarin r hom he had seen following him entered, followed by two coolies. To his surprise, the Chinaman addressed him in English. “I want to know what that message to the consul contained.” he said. “I don’t know, and I wouldn’t tell you if I did.” replied Grey. “We’ll see about that.” answered the mandarin. “Make him talk, boys.” The two coolies sprang at Grey, but he grabbed an idol and hit one, tripping the other with his foot. Then he threw the idol at the mandarin, hitting him in the stomach and bowling him over. Then he rushed up the stairs, through the door, which had been left unlocked, and out of the shop. He returned to the ship without any further mishap. Norman A. Smith, ’32. Penny: “What does M. D. mean?” El. Sears (thinking fast): “Mentally de- ficient.”