Maynard High School - Screech Owl Yearbook (Maynard, MA)

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10 THE SCREECH OWL legs around, and touched empty space. Dave’s breath stopped for a second and his heart pounded. The car had stopped no more than two inches from a cliff’s edge! His eyes strained as he looked down. He could see nothing but emptiness. He guessed the cavern must be hundreds of feet below. He had killed a man, but it was his life or Smokey’s! He stumbled back in a cold sweat. He could not think of anything but a crushed body lying far below. And a little black bag that had to be returned. When he returned to the metropolis and restored it, he would explain how he had be- come entangled in the crime, how he was sus- picious of Smokey when he ordered him to stop the car, and when he had answered Smo- key he had thrown his voice as he had done so often when learning ventriloquism as a child. Maybe, he thought, the cops would give him a job on the force. Who knows Max Gruber, ’ 44 . Freedom or Death Solitary confinement in a French dungeon during the rule of King Karloff was probably the worst mental and physical torture humanly conceivable. To escape from the Tombs,” as they were ominously called, was unheard of. If a man were sent there, he was never heard from again. Nobody knew exactly what it was like, but plenty of wild guesses were made. No fear is so great as the fear of something you know nothing about. This prison was at Ville de la Morte! This was Pierre Roche’s fate. For simply not getting hysterical with joy over a speech of the king’s condemning fifty Germans to the Tombs,” he himself had been sent there im- mediately. At first he did not believe it pos- sible! With each and every step down into the Tombs the seriousness of his plight doubled and redoubled. He must have lost consciousness, for when he awoke he was lying down. His body was terribly bruised, probably from being rolled, dragged, or kicked, or perhaps thrown down- stairs. It was many hours, possibly a few days, be- fore he got his wits about him enough to arise from the cot. For many days he did nothing but brood over his misfortune. He found that his cell was about eight by six by six. At the door there was a small slit undereneath, through which food was pushed on a paper plate once a day. The food was dirty, old, and evil smell- ing; but it was nourishing, and after a few weeks his strength was restored and he began to think of escape. Constantly he had heard a sort of brushing or dragging noise like the wind in the trees or water in a stream. Perhaps there was an under- ground river. Frantically searching every inch of the cell, he found one brick loose. After hours of clawing, his hands almost unrecog- nizable as such, he tore the stone out. Looking down, he saw something gleaming white. Then he realized that someone, trying to es- cape, had dug himself into the river and couldn’t get up out of the steep hole after it had caved in. Beside the scattered bones he saw a small spade, which had probably been smuggled in at a great price by some crooked guard. But it was deep in the hole; if he went down after the spade, his would be the same fate as his predecessor. All he owned was a jackknife. His eyes fell upon the cot. The sideboard might be long enough. He ripped it off and shoved it down the hole. By hang- ing by his waist down into the hole itself, the board would just reach the handle of the shovel. He climbed out of the hole and, having pulled the board up, he started to whittle a hook into the end of it. With much difficulty he suc- ceeded in hauling the spade up. Figuring the course of the brook, he went to the other side of the dungeon where he thought that the river would not be, He loosened another rock and dug down about six feet, which took about two days. All the dirt he carried and dropped down into the small stream. Then he dug at

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THE SCREECH OWL 9 he had been tricked into a job driving the killer. Smokey was thinking too. Thinking of five grand in one man’s pocket. It would be simple to do away with the kid. Already night shad- ows had come down and the higher they got, the foggier it became. He’d ask Davey to stop the car for awhile, then when Davey wasn’t looking — blam! Smokey would have the five grand to himself, and no worries. When you get to the top of the mountain, stop and I’ll give ya your share,” Smokey said, with this thought in his mind. But Davey appeared too dejected to read the grim meaning behind Smokey’s little speech. It’s a good spot to ditch this hot gun,” Smo- key explained to calm the kid’s fears. The fog was so thick now that Davey’s headlights were useless. He slowed down and pulled the heavy overcoat about his neck. We must be getting near the top,” he said. It’s getting kind of cold up here, and I can hardly see the road in front of me. Gosh! What a blanket of fog we rolled into!” Smokey gripped the automatic in his pocket. A light shone in his eyes, and the scarred mouth looked ugly as he smiled. He tapped Davey ' s shoulder. Maybe we better stop, kid,” Smokey said, half wondering if Davey had guessed his in- tentions. Once we get our bearings, we can start again. Maybe we’re half off the road right now, and besides, we should be near the top.” What next. It would be best if they were out of the car so that no signs of the murder would be left. He could ask Davey to look around the rear of the car, while he took the front. He could explain that this was to see how close they were to the edge of the mountainous road. Yes, he pondered, that would send Davey to the rear, then when his back was turned — ! Smokey felt the cold steel of his revolver and grinned. It was only about three miles to the state line and Smokey wasn’t a bad driver. There was no sense in paying the kid anything. Besides, the kid might well be waiting for a chance to turn him over to the cops. Okay, kid,” he said, we’d better get out and see where we are. If the fog gets any thicker, we’re going to have to camp here till morning.” Smokey heard Davey stumble out. He couldn’t see him too well. He couldn’t see his own hand in front of his face. Careful, Smokey,” he heard the kid say. Don’t stumble over any of those rocks. One slip up here and it’s a long way down. Smokey looked toward the source of the voice. Ah! there he was! The killer could barely make out Davey’s tall figure. The soup was thick. Suppose he missed. Suppose Davey made a rush for him and re- covered the gun } He was only a kid but strong as a bull. First I’ll act like I’m looking around,” snorted the killer to himself. Can’t let him get suspicious of me. He might jump me, but he’d have to be next to me to get this gun. Well, I’ll try up here fast.” Wish I could see better!” He raised his voice then. Hey kid, how does it look. Are we near the edge. ” Since he couldn’t see Dave, he’d get him to speak and then aim at the voice. Looks as if we’re pretty close,” Dave re- plied, and his voice seemed right behind Smokey. Smokey lifted his gun, whirled around, and stepped forward thinking he had Davey trapped, but no shot sounded, only a long death wail! Smokey!” Dave yelled and raced to the front of the sedan. Smokey!” No answer. He shouted again and again. He inched his way down, stumbling once or twice. Then he got to his knees and felt his way with his hands. A shiny blue object lay before him. He touched it! It was cold and damp! He leaned against the front tire, swung his

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I THE SCREECH OWL 11 right angles to the river. It was slow, hard, back-breaking work. The farther he dug the farther he had to drag the sand back to put it in the stream. His hands were bruised and deeply scarred, and the constant darkness has almost completely taken his sight. For two terrible years he dug. In that time he aged as a man would in fifty. He was no longer the young, handsome, ath- letic man that he had been. He went ahead at a pace of about fifty yards a year. Then suddenly, after twenty-four tedi- ous months, the digging became much easier, almost a soft mud. Perhaps he was at the banks of a stream or swamp. As he burrowed up- ward frantically, the mud caved in, pinning him in up to his chest. He was partially free! If he could only get clear of the vise-lik e grip of the mud. He lay there struggling to no avail. He could see the mud moving slowly in front of him. He could not make out what it was, perhaps a frog or a turtle. As the mud cleared and he heard a horrible bellow, he realized that he had come out in a pit of croco- diles. Later, when the head jailer’s pets were being fed, the guards saw some clothes in the pit. Immediately they discovered that Pierre was not in his cell, and found the tunnel. If he had gone eight feet more, he would have come up outside the wall. Joseph Walsh, ’44. Hi jH The Three Bears Once upon a time there were three bears, and they all lived together in a little house on the outskirts of a little town. One bear was a brunette and she worked on the day shift at Lockheed. One bear was a blonde, and she worked on the swing shift at Lockheed. The third bear was a redhead, but she kept house and did Red Cross work. One day they happened to be eating their dinner together, but it was so hot they couldn’t eat it. The Bears decided they would go for a walk while their food cooled off. Now the plot begins to thicken! While they were gone, a lady burglar named Goldilocks jimmied a window open and got in. Now Goldilocks had lost her ration book and hadn’t had anything to eat for three days; so the dinner on the table was a great temptation. She gave in and gobbled it up in two shakes of a lamb’s tail. Then she sat down in an easy- chair to smoke a cigarette and look at a maga- zine. Slowly, slowly her eyes closed; slowly, slowly her hand dropped. All of a sudden Goldilocks jumped up — she had set fire to the chair with her cigarette! Like a demon she worked putting out the fire and she succeeded ! The frame of the chair still stood, blackened and charred. Goldilocks, exhausted after this excitement, went upstairs to take a nap. Meanwhile the Bears came home from their walk. They opened the door and walked in. The dining room window was open and a bag of burglar’s tools was underneath it! There wasn’t any dinner on the table! In the living room they saw the burnt frame of the chair! They stared openmouthed at each other. Upstairs!” cried the Bears in one voice. The Three Bears raced upstairs. There on one of the beds lay Goldilocks, sound asleep. She hadn’t even bothered to take off her shoes. Slowly and quietly the Bears surrounded the bed. On the count of three they jumped at Goldilocks and tied her up. While one phoned for the police the other two sat on Goldilocks. The police came up on the street to the bears’ house and took Goldilocks away to jail. The moral of the story is Never go to sleep while you’re robbing houses.” Barbara Parker, ’47. m Two Choices You get your assignment. You have two choices: You can do your homework; Or you cannot do your homework; If you do not do your homework. You still have two choices: