Lompoc High School - La Purisima Yearbook (Lompoc, CA)

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LoMPoc UNIONI l81HIGH SCHOOL At Santa Barbara she made her home for the few remaining years of her life with the Doctor, he and his wife becoming very fond of her. One day she showed us a dress of feathers she had secreted somewhere for many years. She used to put this on and do an odd dance for the many visitors who came to see her. She finally told us that she never. found the child, but that was all. She didn't want to talk about it. At her death she was buried in her feather dress. As he ended his story, the old man carefully replaced the jar on the shelf as if it were priceless china, then sank back, gazing into the fire as if he saw it all again. 'J 5 Out of the clouds peeps the sun Into the heavens of blue, And the toil of the day is begun- Out of the clouds peeps the sun, The flowers awake, one by one, And the birds drink the meadow's dew, As out of the clouds peeps the sun Into the heavens of blue. Two Seniors, '25. VIGNETTES FROM LIFE I. A tall lady dressed in black, followed by a thin little girl in a faded blue cape, walked slowly up and down the crowded, baggage-strewn wharf. The tall lady held a parasol at a sharp angle to intercept the scorching rays of the hot sun, while the little girl looked forth upon the hurried scene from under the protection of a little brown hand. It was an open-eyed, wondering gaze which she fixed upon the yelling porters who trundled heavy baggage down to the edge of the wharf. She watched them work for a long time, until one of them pointed a hand up river and shouted, Here she comes! She followed the direction of the hand. A passenger-boat was slowly raising its hulk above the screen of trees around a bend in the river. The noise of its engines suddenly came to the expectant ears like the droning of distant voices, but as the great form neared it resembled the whirr of mighty birds in headlong flight. The boat stopped. Then came the jumbled confusion of collecting baggage, of tender leave-takings, of boarding, and of shouted farewells. The woman and little girl mingled among the passengers. How exciting it was. People were leaning way out over the rail waving white handkerchiefs, pretty ones too. What if one should fly away? And, worst of all, what if the rail should break? Something curious was happening to the people left on the wharf. They were shrinking-now their faces were a blur, now you couldn't make them out at all. Would they vanish altogether, shrinking into nothing? But the boat rounded a curve before the shrinking process was completed. Farther on, near.the shore, was a man in a boat. He had his arms held out straight. just then he waved his arms like the magician in Aladdin, and oh look! a great shiny grey bundle was coming right up out of the water towards his hands. Could it be money? Or was it something awful to cat the man? But then the passenger-boat rounded another bend. Therewere a great many people on the boat. Where did they all come from? And, why were they staring so curiously at her, and whispering? What could it be? She looked up in innocent inquiry to the face of her tall companion, and her eyes

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LoMPoc UNIONI l71H1oH SCHOOL 'What now,' I cried as I ran quickly over. To my surprise, it was a footprint. Could it be ?-No! Yes, it was a woman's footprint. We could only find the one footprint, so we returned to camp. That evening, while sitting around the camp fire, we began to tell some of the old Indian legends. All of a sudden one came to me of the 'Lost Woman of Santa Rosa,' which went something like this: At one time some Aztec Indians had been left on the island by a Russian trader. The padres from the Santa Barbara Mission decided that they should be rescued and brought back to their homes. A boat, 'El Peor que Nada,' Cand worse than nothing it proved to bel was sent out after themg but, in the excite- ment of leaving, one of them, Natacha, discovered that her son was not with the other children as she had supposed, and rushed back to find him. In the meantime, a heavy storm was seen coming up, forcing them to leave before her return. The padres expected to go back for her, but the old channel was treacherous and in attempting her rescue, 'El Peor que Nada,' the only large boat on the coast, capsized and was wrecked, thus making it impossible to reach the island. By the time another large boat came it seemed impossible that any person could possibly have survived the hardships alone, so there was no further attempt at a rescue. Now, after twenty years, was it possible that she was still alive? Someone surely was on the island. Our adventurous spirit got the better of us: and I'll have to admit what little sleeping we did that night was spent in dreams of find- ing Natacha. The next morning we set out to explore the northern end of the island. After climbing up and down rocks and cliffs, and through brush, we were re- warded by finding another enclosure such as the ones we found the first day. ' Here the old gentleman seemed to forget himself, and stopped his story. Grandad, don't stop, go on! Let me see, why, where was I?-Oh! Now I know-inside the hut. Inside of the hut there was a willow basket containing a dress of skins held together by thongs of some material, some whalebone needles were there too, as well as dried Esh. We spread the things out believipg that if they belonged to Natacha she would replace them. After hunting vainly a little longer we returned to camp. On the following day we returned to the hut. 'Oh, they are replaced 3' Doc seemed as joyful as a child in his discovery. Through the spy-glasses Doc discovered another 3 needless to say, we rushed quickly over there. As we neared it, we saw a woman sitting there. We could hardly believe our eyes. Go on, grandad, go on, interrupted Jack. The woman was surrounded by wild dogs, which she called to her in a strange dialect as we came up. She stood up and we could see that she was dressed in a dress like the one we had found in the basket. Her head was uncovered but for long hair, which evidently once had been yellow, but which then was burnt, matted, and horrible to look at. It looked as if wind, rain, and sun had alike played with it. She could not understand our language, and though Doc knew many Indian dialects, she had either forgotten hers or we didn't know it. After trying, without avail, to tell her we wanted to take her back, we tried signs. I pointed to our boat which could be seen from the hill, then towards the mainland. She seemed to understand, and began to pick up her things. To our surprise, she didn't seem overjoyed as we had expected, but she was willing to go. We returned to camp, embarking for Santa Barbara the next day. She wanted to sew, and with much help finally made a skirt, over which she was as pleased as a child. , '

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LoMPoc UNIONI 19 lHIGH SCHOOL opened wider at what she saw there. A tear! Why, was she crying? Oh no, it was the breeze. It made her eyes smart. And with a little hysterical laugh the tear was brushed quickly away. Then the boat went on for a long, long time. Sometimes there were cozy houses to look at, sometimes bleak sheds, at times trees, then only hills. Then away off there came into view a long, low black cloud. It came nearer. There were houses and chimneys under it, and someone called it New Orleans. There was a, great deal of confusion when the boat stopped there. Harsh noises. and shrill sounded everywhere. lt seemed like a den with the shrieking, roaring beasts and engines trying to escape. It was frightening. But not any more, a protecting arm was slipped about her shoulders with a little reassuring pat. Even in the street the noise continued. And the nasty smell of oil and decayed fish kept on. It seemed to come from everywhere, even out of the big box-houses with clothes hanging out of them. Having the protecting arm about one's shoulders was indeed good. It was keeping the dirt and filth away from her, like the clear glass that protected the pretty pink lilies at home from the hot sun and wind out- side. The arm seemed to say that this place was not for her, that she would wilt like the flowers if the grimy houses touched her. She felt herself being hurried along faster, then the steps hesitated before a big, narrow-mouthed box-house. Were they going to enter? There were old shoes and brooms and rusty buckets scattered on the flimsy steps outside the door. Through the open door could be seen a dark, narrow stair. It looked like a spider's house, and she hated spiders. Horrors! She felt the arm pause at this door-a spider's door! Just then a boy came up a side street. Paper, paper! he yelled. Murdered outlaw Stenin's life history told by tenement pal! Had daughter-- Her shoulder hurt where the tall lady clutched her. What was going to hap- .pen now? They were going to run! Which way? Into the spider mouth, or back to the boat? , The newsboy stopped in the middle of his cry as he saw a tall woman and a little girl in a faded blue caperace swiftly towards the wharf. f I -Hazel Scolari, '25. xl 3,,,II. It was the championship' game of barn-yard golf between two old pioneers. The score was now six to six. Old Charlie, dressed in his second best suit, chuckling, said, as hethrew his second shoe, All right, here goes a ringer. ' I' But the shoe stopped about two inches on the other side of the peg and Old Jim in his pair of blue overalls, his blue shirt rolled up at the sleeves showing. his lean withered arms, picked up his shoes and tottered up to the peg. He tlhrewiv one of his shoes and it stopped about ten inches from the peg. He laughed :e 55 Ph'at one wasn't so good, but just take a look at this one, and he watched hissecond shoe stop right along the side of the other. Then both of them tottered down to see who got nearest to the peg. Well, I guess mine is closer this time, jeered Jim. ' V I dpn't know about that, said Charlie, wait till I get this here straw, and I'll measureiit. This is a championship game you know, and we must be square. First old Charlie measured Jim's shoe, then holding his thumb on the place he measured his own. Hil I told you mine was closer! I can see that even if I am a little near-sighted, he scoffed. -. .4 That 'makes you eight to me six, Jim muttered. Well, this time will tell the tale. Charlie bent over stiffly and picked up his shoes. The first one was a leaner, and was pretty close to the peg. Jim, turning the shoes nervously in his hands, watched Charlie. He knew if