Mechanic Falls High School - Pilot Yearbook (Mechanic Falls, ME)

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20 M. F. H. Walsh in the game? Believe me, if I were his father I would be the proud- est man on this side of the Pyrenees . Who says that Iim not proud of him ? demanded Walsh. So you're the guy, who won't let him play. If I were you I'd hide my head under my wing , retorted the other. I'll show you , muttered Walsh, and he hobbled down to where his son was sitting on the front row of the grandstand with his head buried in his hands. Go in and show that clam up there that you can play as you never played before , commanded Walsh. Do you mean it? May I play? Oh Dad! Ted's face lighted with smiles and he jumped to his feet. He fairly flew over the ground until he reached the gym. In less time than it takes to tell he was back on the Held, dressed in his football uniform. A mighty cheer went up as those who recognized him saw Ted go to the coach and whisper to him. The referee's whistle blew for the third quarter. When the team went onto the lield again, Ted was with them. Did he play? As a wild-eyed fan expressed it, The boy fairly ate up the yards . In five minutes the score was tied, fourteen to fourteen. For the next nine or ten minutes the ball zigzagged across the field. With one minute to play, the ball was in Yale's possession. Go it! Harvard! Do it shouted the half-crazy fans. The Yale center tossed the ball at S. PILOT one of his team-mates but luckily for Harvard he missed it. Straight into Ted's hands it flew. Ted started. Ten, twenty, thirty, forty , the people shouted. A touchdown! A hundred yard run ! shouted the wild fans, as Ted ran between the white posts. The crowd surged on the field and lifted Ted to their shoulders. reached the grandstand, father arguing with the When Ted he found his man who had sat behind him during the game. Well, he you're sorry ! shouted Walsh. is now , he explained, did it! Now I guess Here he when he saw Ted standing behind him. If it hadn't been for me you wouldn't have won the game . Never mind about that father. I'm only interested in the fact that you are once more a lover of football . Iola Chase, '33 THE SONG OF THE WHIP-POOR-WILL Softly down the mountain side came the cry of a Whip-poor-will. Silvia Morgan, sitting at her window in the darkness, was listening to his cryg as she had done every evening since she was seven and now she was Fifteen. The Morgan family consisted of Mr. Morgan, his wife and their children, Richard and Silvia. They lived at Wild Acre Farm in Sangeville, Maine near a small mountain called the Whip- poor-will, named for the small brown bird who inhabited it. Mr. Morgan worked in the lumber mill at Klamath Falls a short distance from Wild Acre Farm. He had bought

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M. F. H. S. PILOT 19 Look here , protested Ted. You don't understand, I can't play football . That's the very reason why you are going to report then , retored the leader. Without another word they trooped out of the room. Ted sank back in his chair and buried his head in his hands. He well knew that if he re- ported for practice and could play very well that he would be expected to report regularly. If he did not play he would be considered yellow . Finally the dreaded day arrived and Ted reported for practice, dressed in pajamas. After a few minutes practice he forgot that he was not supposed to know how to play football and he entered into the game with all of his old ability. You showed some hue ability to- day, Walsh, and I intend to make a fine football player out of you , ex- claimed the coach after practice. Ted did not want to lay the blame on his father so he lied to the coach. I'm sorry, Coach, but I never could see any sense in the old game , he replied. The next day Ted passed through a trying ordeal. The coach had evidently told the boys on the team about Ted's refusal to play, and they had adver- tised it over the campus. Everybody shunned him! The days stretched into weeks and Ted's position in college remained the same. Only his roommate, jim, would speak to him. He tried to cheer Ted, but all to no avail. Ted made no replies to his jokes, but resolved to write his father and tell him about the situation. When Ted received an answer from his father, it was so discouraging that he threw it into the waste-basket. jim was excused from classes early that afternoon so that he could report for practice for the big game between Harvard and Yale, on Thursday. When he reached his room he was in such a hurry to get his sweat shirt that he stumbled over the wastebasket, spilling its contents on the floor. In stooping to pick up the papers he noticed Ted's father's letter, and could not help reading the first part. So this is why our young friend doesn't play football! Supposing I write to him and tell him how matters stand? But I know of something better! I'll ask him to come to the big game on Thursday. On Thursday morning, an old man alighted at the station. In spite of .himself Ted Walsh could Knot help thrilling at the sight of the town where he had had such glorious times in his college days. At two o'clock he started for the football team. When he arrived he found the crowd yelling madly and he almost wished that he was going to play as he had in times gone by. Soon after he took his seat, the game began. An impertinent fellow, sitting in back of Walsh kept hitting him on the back and taking his hat to wave it madly in the air. At one particu- larly fine play he nearly knocked Walsh from his seat. Can you beat that? Say, wouldn't this old team sail some if we had Ted

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M. F. H. S. PILOT 21 the farm and was making a comfortable living for his family at the time of my story. Richard, her brother, was twenty and worked in the mills also. Silvia was especially fond of her brother. Silvia loved VVild Acre Farm with all her heart, much more indeed than the rest of the family did. Now as the Whip-poor-will began to sing his beau- tiful song which he sang every evening, Silvia burst into tears. She murmured softly, half to herself, half to the little bird: Why did it happen? Chl Why did Dad do it? That day at about ten o'clock a shin- ing new automobile had turned in at the driveway and swung up between the curves of the wonderful Wild Acre lawns. A gentleman had descended from the car and inquired for Mr. Daniel Morgan. He had said, remov- ing his hat, Please tell him that Franklin Johnston would like to see him a few moments. Silvia, for it was she who opened the door, had gone for her dad after invit- ing the young man to be seated. Her father had given a violent start at the name and-that had been the cause of all Silvia's tears this evening. - After Mr. Morgan and his guest had been in the library a few moments the farmer had come to the door and asked Silvia to come in. . Silvia could recall clearly as she listened to the sweet voice of the Whip- poor-will how slowly and sadly he had said, Silvia, this is your cousin, Frank- lin Johnston. I have never told before but when you were born your Uncle David Johnston gave me enough money to live on for two years. I was very poor then and I thought that one child was enough for his conditions were that he must have the first baby girl as his own child after she was fifteen. W I promised, Sylvia, and you-must-go . So tonight was the last time she would ever sit and listen to the little brown bird trilling his sweet song. Tonight was the last time she would sleep in Wild Acre Farm. Her clothes were all packed and early in the morn- ing she must leave for the city of Cambridge, -Massachusetts with the young cousin whom she now detested. The next morning Silvia said good- bye to everything she loved and rode off in the shining automobile to an uncle she never had seen. In Cambridge an old man of sixty- five, a very grouchy fif we may say such a thingj old fellow, sat eating his breakfast and muttering, Confound the boy! Why doesn't he hurry? I'll bet he'll loiter along and take all the time he can to get here from Sangeville with the girl . He passed a very un- easy day and night. He was on the verge of hiring a car and going to meet them when an automobile drove up and he saw a lithe, slender girl of fifteen, a very pretty girl with her brown wavy hair, pink cheeks and bright eyes, step from the car and come toward the door. He rushed to the door and picked her up in his arms before she hardly could get her foot inside the hallway. So , said he looking at her intently, So, you're Silvia Morgan, you deserve the name, girl, you're that pretty . He rang for a servant who escorted her to the rooms assigned her. Every-