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

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LoMPoc UNIONI 20 IHIGH Scnool. he didn't get any points this time, Charlie would win. The leaner counted three and that would make eleven, and ten was the game. He walked up to the peg and said, Now, if I could only knock your leaner on, with my shoe on top, who would be the winner ? He threw his first shoe, it rolled over into the cow corral. You're pretty nervous, Jim, better take your time, Charlie teased. Well, it only takes one shoe to make a ringer. Beads of sweat were standing on his forehead, and looking over his spectacles, he measured the distance. He threw his second shoe, it knocked Charlie's leaner on with his on top. Slowly old Charlie walked up and slapped Jim on the back and cackled, Your good luck this time, old boy. Blanche Gilkeson. III. It was an old story for the people of Dawson City, they had known it for many years, and it was as a legend to them. They would repeat it again and again in the winter evening, how Red Mike had won and lost in the old days. lt was in the year 1894 that Michael Robinson had just settled down to busi- ness as a fruit peddler on one of the large streets, in New York. Michael was a strong, burly Norwegian. His red hair gave him the appearance of the ancient Norse gods. He had a good education, according to his class. One day in 1897, news came that gold was discovered in Alaska. Michael be- came excited by the newspapers and the gossip and decided to go in quest of gold for himself. He sold his fruit stand, and taking all of his belongings in one small suitcase, he set forth for wealth and adventure. One month later he stepped off a small boat at Nome and proceeded inland, prospecting as he went. His object was to reach the Klondike region as soon as possible. He reached White Horse in dead winter, practically exhausted 5 his food had given out in twenty days, and his thin clothing poorly protected him from the sleet and ice. He had covered eight hundred miles of barren, frozen country, many times thought impossible by old miners. Michael had good ,luck with the gold which he had found, trading it in for money. He had fifteen hundred dollars, besides the three hundred he still had from selling his property in New York. White Horse was filled with ex-convicts and thieves 3 as soon as they heard of money they went after it, and so it was in Michael's case. They came upon him one night, and after a fight which ended in Michael's defeat and their loss of two men, they got his money. Michael had his wounds treated by a physician, who was kept busy by such fights as that which had just occurred. Michael followed his robbers into their den and silenced their lips forever: and from this time on he was Red Mike to his comrades. He also found seven hundred dollars of his money, which was buried near the den. Prices were so high, at this time, that this money was of no use, and he had to go on without food or clothing in the spring. Red proceeded on his journey with a party of old miners and reached Dawson City, late in the autumn, after many disasters. He was taken down with a fever, just one week out of White Horse. Four packhorses were lost, and he was wounded again. These all led to his death, which happened the next year. -Howard Schuyler.

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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

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oMPoc UNIONI 21 IHIGH SCHOOL FOUR POEMS By Hazel Scolari, '25 I. The West Wind There's a sigh in the breath of the West Wind, A murmur of sorrow and woeg There's a sparkle of tears where it passes, And a whimpering soft and low. Can a soul that is free as the West Wind Find sadness and sorrow on earth? Or is freedom in life but Man's fancy?-- Was Liberty lost with his birth? For there's a sigh in the breath of lXIan's Freedom, A murmur of sorrow and woeg There's a sparkle of tears where it passes 3- Is Illusion the Freedom we know? II. I Love the Rain I love the rain. It falls and beats Against my window prettily. It looks within, and plants its cleats Into the pane to smile at me. It slips the clouds, ransoms the sun, Sends him with speed to summon me To view the raindrops, newly spun, Form jewelled patterns in the sky. I love the rain. It clings to me, Requires my love so tenderlyg It plays and softly sings to me, And kisses me. I love the rain. III. The Wreck On the shore of a fierce, surging ocean, Where the lashing winds hold sway, Battered and broken and barren, There lies a hull to-day. And few men know its story Or how it was washed to land, It once was the best of the ships of the west, But now-'tis buried in sand.