Holbrook High School - Echo Yearbook (Holbrook, MA)

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THE ECHO 25 ! WHITE’S CASH MARKET FIRST CLASS MEATS, FRUITS, FISH, VEGETABLES PURE MILK FROM OUR OWN DAIRY E. C. POOLE Telephone 0413 You have tried T O Have your Furs others. Try US! J stored and repaired CLEANSER and DYER 900 Washington Street, South Braintree, Mass. We Do Work That Satisfies” J. H. SAWYER, M. D. Osteopathic Physician F. W. CRAWFORD, M. D. I PATRONIZE OUR ADVERTISERS

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24 THE ECHO A TREASURE HUNT It was midnight! A lonely road curled through a lonely stretch of woods. In the moonlight two boys could be seen trudging down the road. One, a short red-hcaded fellow, was carrying a shovel and a lantern. The other, who was tall and lanky, was car- rying a pick and rope. He was whispering, “It ain’t far now, Bill. We can take a short cut here.” Here they crossed the road and went up a hill. The woods enclosed around them, and again they crept along in silence. At last they arrived at their destination. It was a rotten, broken-down old house. Bill said, “Well, here we are. Now, what do we do, Jackie?” “Well,” replied Jack “Here are the di- rections. Read them yourself. I got it all marked out. All we have to do is dig it up.” Bill read the note. It was torn and crumbled with age. It read, “We had it in the closet for a long time. It was a great relief to get it out of the house. It is hid- den twenty feet from the shed on a direct- line with the big maple tree.” “Well,” said Bill, “maybe we have some treasure after all.” “Guess we better be getting busy. Here’s the place.” And so they lit the lantern and started digging. When they were about two feet down, they struck a large rock. They pulled this up, and there lay a large iron-bound box. Out they pulled it and gazed with awe on it. At last Jack picked up a shovel and broke the lock. In there lay their treasure. Bill stooped down and lifted the lid. They raised the lantern and looked upon their treasure. There curled up lay the skeleton of a cat. Two boys trudged home by the light of a paling moon. Neither one spoke to the ether. W ' hat was the use in talking? They had many miles to go and a lot of explain- ing to do when they got home. William Taylor, ’33. THE CALL OF THE WILD “Let’s just make it a little picnic in the woods, this week,” said Bill. “All right, just to be different, but next week I want to go to that new beach I spoke to you about two weeks ago,” answered Gertrude. “Don’t you ever get tired of beaches and crowds? I’d like to go where it’s quiet once in awhile.” “Why? Because it makes such a hole in your pocket-book?” “You know that isn’t it! When we’re there, we’re in on every thing. Aren’t we?” “Don’t get cross, dear. You know I didn’t mean it, but I like the crowd and the ex- citement.” So it was decided that they would get a little lunch and have a picnic in the woods. They found a side street off the main road and followed it until they came to a small pine grove. “Here’s just the place!” exclaimed Bill. “Here’s a natural driveway for the car and a swell little clearing over there.” “Look, there’s a brook way over to the right,” chirped the now gleeful Gertrude. Bill put his car in the natural driveway and took out the lunch-basket and a couple of blankets to sit on. “I’ve got some dandy sandwiches that I made myself,” said Gertrude. “Well, I m going to have a fire and fry some bacon and eggs, right here in the open- ing. Do you want some?” “I’d rather have the sandwiches and gin- ger-ale,” said Gertrude. “I’ll bet you’ll want some bacon and eggs before you ' re through!” prophesied Bill, a flicker of amusement crossing his face. Bill found some stones near-by, and with these he built a fireplace. In it he built a fire of dead pine-wood. Down near the brook he found an old piece of tin which he put over the fire and made the fire-place just like a stove. On this he cooked his dinner. Gertrude sat watching him, interested in the creation of a stove and how he was go- ing to cook his bacon and eggs. Soon the odor of the bacon and eggs began to make itself known. With amusement, Bill watched Gertrude as the odor made her mouth water. When the dinner was all cooked, he got a couple of paper plates and a couple of knives and forks and took up the dinner. “Want some now?” he queried, his eyes sparkling enjoyment. “Don’t be like that! How could I resist it?” came the reply. So they both sat down and ate heartily. Bill cooked two eggs apiece and then called it a day. Then he got some water at the brook and heated it on the fire to wash the spiders and the silverware. “Let’s lock around for flowers and birds,” suggested Bill. “Let’s That’ll be great fun,” chimed Gertrude, who had now entered into the spirit of the occasion. So after extinguishing the fire, and put- ting away the lunch basket, which still con- tained the sandwiches, they started out to look at nature. “Look! What are those little white flow- ers over there?” asked Gertrude. “Anemone,” said Bill. “See, some are pink, and the others are plain white.” “The pink ones are the prettiest, don’t you think?” “Yes,” said Bill, “they have prettier leaves, too. See, they are darker than the ethers.” “What are those stately white ones?” asked Gertrude a few minutes later. “Those are trilliums. I haven’t seen any of them for a long time. I don’t think there are many of them..” So they traveled on through the woods, finding many flowers and seeing a few birds. Returning to the car, they were both tired and happy from their walk. Gertrude had a huge bouquet of flowers of all sorts, which she had collected during the walk.

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26 THE ECHO Arriving at the car, they entered and sank wearily on the soft cushions of the car seat. “Tired?” asked Bill. “I’m tired,” she replied, “but I ' m happy. I was never so happy before in my life. ’ Following this was a few minutes’ inter- val of silence. “Do you know,” she said, “I’d like to come out here again — next week.” Emory H. Mann, ’32. SER GEANT WHITE The low dull drone of an aeroplane reached the ears of a small band of rustlers hidden deep in the Canadian Rocky Moun- tains. As aeroplanes were so seldom seen in that part of the country, the men hastened to a small clearing in the woods and gazed sky-ward. There in the sky just above them soared a monoplane. Something was wrong! That could be seen in an instant. Lower and lower came the plane, the X-44, with its motor kicking and sputtering. In another moment it soared upwards, and then it went into a vertical dive, and then the plane dis- appeared behind the huge trees. A moment later a loud crash sounded over the Rockies. “Come on, fellows, we’ve got to get that aviator out of that wreck,” shouted Spud as he started for the plane. “Just a minute,” cried a voice. Everyone stopped short in his tracks. “See who he is first. If he is a Royal Mounted, let him die. If he isn’t one of them, save him,” said Joe Black, “El Capi- tan,” leader of the biggest gang of rustlers in Canada. “If you save him, let him think that we are getting out lumber from these woods. Our big lumber mill will prove that to him. As for our numerous head of cattle, tell him we need it for beef to feed our men.” The men pushed forward and soon ar- rived in the small hollow where the plane was thought to have landed. Yes, sir, there she was blazing like fury. There standing with a doeful look on his face watching her burn was a young man. “M-m-my sh-ship is b-burning up,,” stam- mered he, giving the men a sorrowful look. “It isn’t m-m-mine. Wh-what will I d-do n-n-now?” “Anything, anything,” cried El Captain. “What’s your name?” “M-my n-name is T-Tom Atwood Wh- Wh-White,” replied the young man. “How am I g-g-going to g-get out of these b-b-big woods?” “You’ll get out soon — when we take you out,” explained Joe. “That won’t be until the middle of the next month when we go down to Deighton for supplies. This is a lumber camp, and we can’t afford to lose time by taking all the ‘birds’ that drop from the sky back to civilization.” “Wh-wh-what you s-say g-g-goes for m-me,” replied Tom with a stupid grin. “G-g-got anything to eat? G-gee, I’m near- ly st-starved.” “Take him to the mess hall, Bill,” called Joe to one of the men. “See that he gets plenty to fill him up. I’ll see you later, Thomas.” Joe Black turned and walked away while the stupid youth was pushed toward the mess hall. This was the arrival of Sergeant Thomas Atwood White in the rustlers’ camp. He claimed that it was Lady Luck that had led him straight to the rustlers’ camp that he was hunting for. As the time went on, that “stupid” Tommy became the handy fellow about the camp. If they wanted kindling wood, it was Tom- my who got it. Tommy never forgot that he was a stupid person, in fact, if anyone had not taken it for granted that he was dull as he looked and had watched him close- ly, they might have said that he carried his stuttering and stammering too far, but no one bothered to watch him. A little later he was allowed to join in some of the deals that the gang was carry- ing on. By this time he had (supposedly) stumbled on that fact that it wasn’t only lumber that the leader Joe, and the men were interested in. That first month he had gone to town with Bill in order to catch the train home, but he missed the only train home, but he missed the only train (not accidently as it seemed). So a few months later he was looked upon as a full fledged member of the gang. He now went to Deighton alone for supplies, and he was well known by the people of that little town who made all manner of fun of him. Needless to say, he didn’t mind it in the least. It was on one of these trips to town that he pondered the question, how am I to get out of this? “Well,” he said to himself, “Chance got me in this, and now I’ll wait for chance to get me out.” Upon his arrival in town he went immedi- ately to the store and called to the keeper, “P-p-put up t-the u-usual th-things, D-dad P-p-parson.” He then turned and went into the street. “How in the dickens can I report to the Chief,” he muttered to himself as he crossed the street toward the railroad station. “Well, Tommy, you’ve got to get word to him some way that you are right in the center of things up here. Oh, I b-b-beg m-my p-pardon.” This last was said to someone into whom he had walked. Ah, in his pocket was a bit of paper. This was its message: “We are ready when you are.” Signed, Captain Tilden. They were there. Glancing about him he could see many of his comrades in plain clothes. They had been enjoying themselves at his expense. After getting his supplies from the store, he stepped into the wagon. Slowly he left the town followed by one or two wagons which didn’t seem to anyone to be following him. He arrived in camp a few moments ahead of the other wagons, and as it was noon hour, the men were all gathered about the