Kennebunk High School - Rambler Yearbook (Kennebunk, ME)

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turned proudly toward the other three well dressed men. Gentlemen, he smiled, you have seen the son of two of the mosft valuable horses in the west. West? In the world. Stone, one of the men volunteered, I'll give you two thousand dollars for that colt as he stands. Two thousand ? Stone drew deeply on his pipe. That colt is worth four thousand if he's worth a cen-t. H-is mare, Golden Gift, is worth thirty-five hundredg his sire, Sunburst, is worth thirty-two hundredg and you, Mr. Carr, you oder me two thousand. A -second man, taller than the first, 'spoke up, Stone, I will make one offer, one only. It is yours to take or to leave. I bid twenty-five hun- dred for your prize colt-twenty-five hundred as he runs in that field, unbroken, untrained to work or touch. The rancher gazed straight before him. His ranch grounds were perfect in every way. His fences were picturesque, useful, his workers were happyg his horses were flawless-his horses were flawless and worth thousands to every rancher, every raceway operator, every wealthy sports- man in the country. He turned away from the pastures, his back toward the men. Aloud, to himself, he commented, They offer me a few hundred for a horse that I'm in no hurry to sell for a few thousand. Stone, the remaining man snapped impatiently, two men have offered you immense prices for a colt which, to be sure, has good blood lines but no definite promise. I'll make you an offer,too. I'll make you just one offer. You take the glory. You train him, race him. You make him famousg you take the glory, Stone. He'll -be your horse publicly, but I'll get the cash he 'brings in. The offer stands, Stone-I'll give you two thousand doll'ars, but the colt will still 'be yours. Stone. the Rancher, paced a few feet away. His eyes clouded. The fields suddenly became a track to him. He was sitting a sulky, in the traces a magnificent gold horse. Other beautiful animals flanked the gold one-beautiful, but not nearly so beautiful as the great gold horse. Sud- denly a bell clanged. Impatient hoofs struck the turf solidly. Every horse was swiftg the race was excitement personified. There were horses ahead of the great gold one but not for lon-g. Easily he gained on his opponents until there was just one in the way. The one remaining op- ponent was a black, sleek-coated animal, which could match him pace for pace. They were neck and neck near the rail with the gold one to the inside advantage. Stone glanced toward -his adversary, toward the oppos- ing horsels nose. He was a few inches ahead. T-he finish line was only a short distance off. Stone bit hard on his lips. His face, could any spectator have seen it, was probably the most grimly contorted face that had ever travelled the track. The Gold one was straining: he too felt the mystic sensation of the track. The turn in the track marked the lmt stretch: and the driver's intuition inside the wiry sulky driver said, Give him his head-he can do it alone . Stone saw it all before him. lt would be a photo-finish, and the winner- The rancher smiled again at the thought. He turned back to the man with the check book, his smile 'broadening in-to a grin. The buyer misunderstood the horseman's expression. All right, Stone. I said just one offer, but I'll make another. I'm a fool, but I fancy the gold of that colt. I'll pay you twenty-five hundred dollars-with the same terms. Do you accept my offer? 25

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TWILIGHT Twilight on my street is the most attractive time of day. The gay' windows seem to reflect a scarlet forest fire as the ruby sun sinks beyond the pale horizon. The -long, d-ull grey shadows stand like dark soldiers on duty before the entrance of night. These tall, dark sentries nod their heads in sympathy as a soft, gentle wind sighs the last breath of a warm spring day. Soon the scarlet reflection from near by windows is barely noticeable as the black curtain of night closes over a picturesque scene. Presently, familiar objects make ghostly shadows with huge shapes. From the distance I hear the humming of car motors as they happily sing on their -homeward journey. Through an open window the soft rustle of feathers and the farewell cries of birds, as t'hey nestle down to a deep sleep, echo the sighs of the wind. The yellow lights snap suddenly into view and the twilight disappears. Cheery voices echo through the night, welcoming the la-borers home. Their voices remove from mind the death of a day lost forever. JUDITH LEECH. --.... -..i..01,-l THE I-IOUSIE i There is a clearing in a wood. In the clearing is a house, a large hou-se. Once it had many people living in itg it-s driveways were full of cars, and there were many gay parties. The house was contented then. It felt that it was a success. But the people and the cars have long since gone from the house and forgotten about itg they have boarded up its doors and left it alone. The house is sad and frightened. When a lone walker passes through the clearing on his Way to other matters, the house watches him silently. lt hates him for his freed-om. There is a dark and lonely hill -behind the house. Once the people had a fruitful orchard there. Now the trees are old and gnarle-d. The wind whistles derisively through them on its way to the sea: which the house can just glimpse over the tops of the gaunt, and lonely pines as it stands on its crumbling foundations. The sneering fungus h-as crept up the sides of the house, the rust has torn its shutters from the windows, and the rot has eaten away the once proud veranda. The wee-ds and wild things, that have taken over the lawns, jeer at the house for i-ts helplessness. Years and seasons pass, and the same pall of death and utter loneli- ness hangs over the clearing. -Still it is my favorite place, and I often sit among the weeds and talk to the house. But it never answers 'because it despises me and the weeds and the crying gulls, wheeling overhead, and everything that is alive and free. U NAN DOW, '52, .-T-1?0- i-Q-1 FOOL'S GOLD Before him stretched acres of green grass, thick and just high enough to hide his feet. He stretched his neck searchingly, shook his head dazedly. Gingerly he stepped out toward the center of the fieldg then as he picked up speed, he became lost amongst the scores of other paloimino colts. Four men had observed the colt's action. One was singular in ap- pearance, wearing 'blue-jeans, denim shirt, and a broad tan hat. He 24

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Stone's smile faded. This man was a fool, truly. He considered his extra five 'hundred dollars all important to the racer. The buyer was a fool, for he fancied the gold the colt would bring to him. He was an empire lover, a capital lover. Stone took the check silently. He himself was a fool too. He was a fool for the love of glory when you tear up the turf of a raceway, when you shake hands wit-h the horny palmed men who beat you-or lose to you. He was a fool first and always, though, for the gold that scattered his spacious pastures . JANICE CHAMBERLIN, '5fl. ...li 1 .i0,.iii.. W A TALE OF WOE Once there was a foul, foul fiend. Now this fiend was no ordinary, run-of-the-mill fiendg it was an almost unimaginable, eerie sort of thing. It had no definite shape or formg and it seemed to be invisibie at times. at other times glowing with a mysterious, irridescent l-ight. This fiend was in the habit of haunting a high school in the Town of Bennebunk. Several of the townspeople -had spoken to the principal of this high school, a Mr. Robin Mayrrardson, concerning the strange colored lights they had observed moving about in various rooms of the school after dark. Many confusing things had occurred since these lights were first noticed. Books were missing, paper was strewn on t'he floor, and a queer smell hung in the air each morning. 'Some of the pu-pils were getting scared, it was evid'ent that if these were not the doings of a supernatural being, it was so close to it that it wasn't funny! Mr. Maynardson was worried. He decided as a last resort to call upon that courageous, noble association of young men, the corridor moni4 tors of Bennekunk High School. These youths -had long been noted for their fearless' courage, 'brute strength, and high character. As I was a member of this great organization, I had an opportunity to get a first' hand account of the horrifying experience of vanqui-Shing this terrible fiend. George LeBarge, Raymond Emmons, Ken Burns, Jake Jackson, Fred S-mith, Dave Snow, Nelson Wentworth, Fish Clark, Russell Clark, and Kaye Moody-all young men in the prime of life-risked their very lives for their school! We met a.t the stroke of twelve at the side entrance to the school. All of us were wearing sneakers so that we could walk quietly: and we all had our Dick Tracy Junior G-Men badges with us, which reassured us no end. All was quiet within. No lights, nothing! Silently, we stalked down the corridor. All of a sudden we noticed a peculiar bluish glow emanating from the laboratory? As soon as we had opened the door, the glowing stopped! Now we heard a low moaning coming from the direction of' the downstairs shop. Our hair was standing on end! We soon no'- ticed this fact, and as Raymond had had the foresight to bring a bottle of' Wildroot Cream Oil, we took out our trusty com-bs and plastered our coiffures down again. Quickly we flung open the shop doorg and care- fully tiptoeing, we fell downstairs together. As though somet'hing had heard us. a horrible moaning began! A terrible shrieking, piercing scream of mortal terror rent the air! We looked in upon the furnace room, and a ghastly sight shocked us to the core? There in all his in- famous glory was the foul, foul, fiend committing one of his most hideous' crimes! There were stacks upon st-ack-s of valuable school books, and this monster was ruthlessly heaving them into the open door of the furnace, 26