Lancaster High School - Mirage Yearbook (Lancaster, OH)

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Mftmu WmjUutd a pg On a little farm crossed by the main line of the K. Z. H. H., dwelt the Widow Wayland. Childless, she had only her- self and her farm to look after. Kach year she raised a pig, only to butcher it in the fall, thus obtaining her meat sup- ply for the winter. Thereby hangs my tale. .Just as the tracks of the K. Z. line passed the front gate of the Widow Wayland’s place, they started on a sharp up-grade and many a wet, stormy night, when the rails glistened with wa- ter, long freights had trouble making this grade. One day in mid-summer, Widow Wayland’s pig escaped from his sty and after wandering aimlessly about for some time enjoying his new-found lib- erty, he hit the railroad track and began to count ties. The Limited was just due. It was on time. It came. It passed. There was one frightened squeal and then—pork dropped. Yes, that pork- er at least dropped, and in small pieces along about a hundred yards of rail- road. Imagine the widow’s anguish if you can, when she found her winter’s meat supply gone and pork selling at the highest price in years! Imagine, if you can, her feeling of grief over the loss of her sole companion, and her revengeful spirit against the railroad! Dressed in her best black, the widow drove to town and went directly to the railroad station. Here she went in to confer with the ticket agent. Loudly she told him of her loss and asked for a set- tlement of fifty dollars at once. He ex- plained to her that her complaint must go to headquarters, so he made out the blank and sent it in while the widow left feeling that a settlement would be made. A week passed with no word from the railroad. So the widow drove to town again. This time the agent asked her into his office and then told her that her claim had been refused at headquarters. Without a word she left and drove slowly home. That night the westbound freight came thundering along, gathering the necessary speed to go over the grade at Wayland’s. Already the freight was fifteen minutes late and holding up the eastbound flyer at C'rawfis. Suddenly the engineer gave the whistle a blast, and shut his air brakes tight, jarring the long line of cars into a sudden stop. Brakcmen came running forward to find out the trouble. “I’ve run over a man,” gasped the engineer. Flashing their lanterns here and there the brakcmen soon found the innocent cause of the trouble. It was an old suit of clothes and a soft hat, stuffed with straw which lay, cut in two parts by the wheels and to its breast was pinned a piece of paper on which was written: i xcant me $50, pay me or i’ll make trouble for you all. i’ll stop your trains from running. Widow Wayland.

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mills. All through the recital Jack had sat without moving a muscle, although he knew this was the end of all his hopes. At the entrance of the guide the super- intendent rose and said lie would accom- pany the guide and the visitors. All through the great mills went the trio, the superintendent explaining to the detective the use of each machine. At last they entered the weaving depart- ment where the great looms with their hundreds of bright, darting shuttles were working away almost noiselessly. As the detective passed up the aisle between the machines his notice was at- tracted by the beautiful face of a young girl who sat at a loom. Two braids of glossy, chestnut hair hung down her back and as she talked to her neighbor, they swung perilously near the flying machinery. The detective started forward to warn her, when a piercing scream rent the air and he stood still unable to move. What he had feared had happened. One braid of hair had caught in the shuttle and was slowly drawing the beautiful head into the machine. A quick thinker is an actor. The sup- erintendent darted forward. In a mo- ment he had reached the great motor which drove the machinery and had cut off the current. Darting back to the girl he grabbed her working shears and in a moment had cut the braid, letting her loose. Everyone crowded about the fright- ened girl. The superintendent still stood by the loom whose bright, darting shuttles, as they were slowing down, held him with a strange fascination. Glanc- ing about to see that no one was look- ing, he dropped his hands in between the sharp needles and fell fainting to the floor, the last proof of his guilt gone. Chai»tkr V. Jones went back to New York alone. He went immediately to his chief’s office. Entering, he stood before Chief Barnes, waiting for his superior to speak. “Well, Jones, what luck?” “First, chief, I want to tell you this is my last case. I’m no longer a detec- tive.” Then he told his story. When he had finished he sat sobbing like a child. “There, there, boy, you did the right thing. So the finger prints were com- pletely ruined? Did he lose any fing- ers ?” “No, chief, but every bone was broken, and his hands will always be covered with those horrible scars.” “Why didn’t you let him alone when you found him as he was? Why did you make him pay such a penalty?” “Because, chief, you told me that our slogan was: ‘Never return without your man’.” AfTKRWORD. Chief Barnes is still on the hunt for criminals. In a few years lie will retire and some younger man will take his place with that sentence ever before him, “Never return without your man.” Jack is still at the bead of his mills. Ilis life is a happy one for he has no fear. He has a beautiful wife and fam- 12 ily, is loved and respected by all, is wealthy and care-free. Jones resigned from the New York Police Force and is now with Jack who says he is the best foreman in the mills. Yes, dear readers, lie married the beau- tiful girl from the mills, but that’s an- other story.

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Swearing, the train crew got under way, now fully a half-hour late. A lit- tle later, the Flyer came rushing out of the black night bound for the great East. Suddenly a red light flashed three times and the engineer, seeing that he was almost on top of the light, jammed his brakes in stopping. Eor ten minutes the crew hunted but nothing could be found—no person, no lantern, and no damage. So things went on from day to day—a red- light, with a warning to it,—a log across the track with a request for payment on it. Thus did the widow push her course but without result. One day the superintendent of the di vision left Jeffcrsday on a special for an inspection trip. The same day Widow Wayland made soft soap. The next day just an hour before the special was due the widow came forth from her abode with two large water pails and poured something on the tracks up the grade. On and on rushed the special an hour late. Nearer and nearer it came to Widow Way land’s. Swiftly they hit the grade. The pistons Hashed back forth, the exhaust roared. The great wheels spun but—the train moved no more. The engineer backed up and tried it again, but to no avail. Then he climbed down from the cab in time to meet the Superintendent coming from the car. Together they walked to the front of the engine, stooped, put a finger on the rail, then to their noses and exclaimed, ‘‘Soft soap!” “Yes, soft soap and there’s more com- ing if I don’t get my fifty dollars!” The Superintendent whirled to the Widow Wayland standing behind them, her hands on her hips. “Fifty dollars! What for?” he in- quired. Then the widow told her story. When she had finished she said: “I’ll fight you forever if you don’t pay up.” Laughing, the Superintendent pulled a roll of bills from his pocket, stripped oft’ five tens and handed them to the widow saying: “All right, Mrs. Way- land. You can’t get. ahead of the Irish, so here’s your money.” A (gltmpap into jFuturr In 1906 the present High school was thrown open for the inspection of the public and reception of pupils. Prev- ious to and during its construction a great number of citizens of Lancaster objected to the size of the building, claiming it to be very much larger than was needed, thus bringing unnecessary expense upon the taxpayers. At the opening of this building there were en- rolled 230 pupils, at present there are 314. Now, behold in the short space of not quite seven years it is found to be 14 far too small to accommodate com- fortably the large number of pupils who seek admittance. The study halls where the pupils in former years could have quiet periods for the preparation of lessons are turned into class recitation rooms. Even the rest room, a refuge in case of accident or sudden illness, has also been convert- ed into a recitation room. Study halls are an imperative neces- sity. Not many pupils arc able to con- centrate their minds on a dry principle