Indian Head Collegiate - Whisper Yearbook (Indian Head, Saskatchewan Canada)

Page 13 text:

THE WHISPER 11 Miss Nelson Mr. Harris Miss Argue Mr Trecarton Bookshelf of the I. H. C. “Seats of the Mighty”—The Office. ‘Wild Geese”—Grace Irwin, Edna Ford. “Daddy Long Legs”—Gordon Dewar. “So Big”—Leone Cochrane. “Vanity Fair”—Grade XII at recess. “Chatterbox”—Ruby B. “Naughty but Nice” —Violet R. “Revolt in the Desert”—Grade XI at re¬ cess. “Sense and Sensibility”—Meriam Dickert. “Chums”—Nora T. and Madeliene M. “Red Pepper Burns”—Allan F. “Little Lord Fauntleroy”—Leon C. “The All Conquering Power”— Mr. H. “Wild Animals I have Known”—Leo Q. and Harold J. “The Story Girl”—Margaret McKay. “A Study in Scarlet”— Austin D. “All We Like Sheep”—Boys of Grade XII. “An Unexpected Hero”—Eddie H. Honors At the stock judging competition in Saskatoon a great percentage of the prizes were won by collegiate boys, who were coached by Mr. W. H. Gibson. In¬ dian Head is justly proud of these W. Vann, R. Boa, A. Dewar—bronze medals each, and a shield for poultry judging. Robert Williamson—medal for poultry judging (special). C. Douglas, R. Williamson, C. Martin— silver medals for poultry judging. C. Martin—silver medal; second in¬ dividual Grand Aggregate. B. Badenoch—pencil, fifth in Grand Aggregate. C. Douglas, R. Williamson, C. Martin— silver medals team Grand Aggregate. C. Douglas, R. Williamson, C. Martin— J. C. Smith Memorial Trophy, team Grand Aggregate D. MACKAY

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10 THE WHISPER stood a complete destruction of the “Lab” and I see—Oh ! Oh ! You’ve upset my goldfish, I was keeping in alcohol and he must be drowned,” as Prof. Jackson changed his tone from one of reproach to that of bitter sorrow. Berry observed a goldfish flopping and flipping disconsolately on the floor. “Drunk,” he soliloquized. After restoring the fish to his unique domicile, the Prof, formally presented Berry with the permission to use the “Lab”, “just once more”, a thing he had done every night for a month. Just then the telephone rang, so Prof. Jackson sprinted up two flights of stairs across a landing and answered the tele¬ phone. He was informed that Mrs. Green would call at six o’clock the following night and could she see Berry, if she did? She could, and so she said she would come. The Professor informed Berry of the coming visitor and then he said, “Berry, somehow your mother’s voice sounded familiar to me, can you think of any rea¬ son why it should ?” “I dunno, but were you ever at Indian Head ?” “Indian Head ? Of course, I went to Indian Head Collegiate.” “Well, so did mother, she was married there too, but now she’s a widow.” “Oh, perhaps I shall remember her when I meet her.” Next night arrived and with it half past five. Prof. Jackson could hear nq sound in the “Lab.” He was thinking that perhaps Berry might really discover something worthwhile, when he heard a, foot-fall. Glancing up, he expected tq see Berry, but instead a pleasant faced dark haired lady was entering the room, “Grace !” jumping up, he upset an ink bottle down the front of his suit and all along his coat sleeve, however that de¬ terred him not at all, in a moment Grace was in his arms. “Grace Badenoch !” “Green,” she corrected. “Where have you been since we left school ” “Well, first I married Arthur and he died and then I met Green—but where’s Berry ?” “We will go and see,” conceded the Professor, blissfully ignorant of his some¬ what addled aspect. And so hand in hand they travelled down the stairs to the “Lab” and there they found an inert Berry seemingly un¬ able to move. “Berry !” screamed his mother. “Berry !” echoed the Professor. “Kick me, prick me or something,” whispered Berry in a quavering voice. The Prof, did so and Berry’s face lit up with joy. “I’ve discovered it at last,” he said, but I took a two hour dose, I’ll be alright in five minutes.” During those five minutes, the happy pair moved out of Berry’s sight. As soon as he recovered he shouted, “Dr. R. M. Dewar said he’d get me millions if I got it; we’ll be rich forever.” Prof. Jackson and his soon-to-be-bride scarcely heard him though the latter murmured, “I wonder if there’s a pain¬ less method to get ink off one’s neck ?” BETTY GRAY Grade XII

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12 THE WHISPER Dawn The morning sun shines aglow, From behind the hill and low The hysteric cry of the loon asounds Through the dense mist that bounds, And slowly rises with a gentle wind. Ducks and grebes of many a kind, Quack and splash in distant marsh ; The gulls with voice ranging harsh, Climb the scale, quaver and fall. Terns with swallow tails, fall On the wary fish, dive and halt, Catching their prey without fault, Flap nervously upward and again, Fly and hover to repeat the same. The cricket in the dewy grass, Ticks slowly in its morning mass. The ’hopper goes singing past on wing, And the thrush starts to sing Its thrilling song, starting high, Coming down, halted by a sigh, To lower again, like a wirery song Sung in hollow barrel round. The hawk with its piercing cry Wheels to windward, rising high And rejoicing on its rabbit meals ; Floats on wing then reels and reels Upward to its airy vigil, To meditate upon its kill. The catbird in hawthorne bush, Whines between the song of the thrush, Alternately as if rightly planned. The bohemians with uneven band, Gather at rest on a cherry tree, Considering where the next move will be, The wild canary with twittering notes, Sings in its flight, then floats, To rise again, with closed wings, Uttering its song with a merry ring. So every bird with itself concerned, Awakens, its hazards to be learned ; A bird alone, a friend of none, Each this law they keep—and dumb. The sun is rising, the mist is clearing, Man and his works put in a showing. The mournful bark of a lonesome dog ; And cattle plunging around a bog. A thin blue cloud of smoke is seen, From the cottage across the green ; All starting the perpetual round Of another day, and each is bound To try again life’s joy and sorrow ; To prepare for the coming morrow, And the promise of a pleasant day, Counted by young as years away, Where there is eternal light, With Dawn supreme—and never night. EDWARD HART Grade X.