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

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22 M. F. H. S. PILOT thing. You know I'm a girl. I wish you had broken your neck climbing down from that plane. I wish-I wish- Her voice broke. The man gazed at her in surprise and a queer look came over his face. He stammered forth. Why, you're a told me girl. You-they-you-they it was a young man piloting this plane. Oh, yes , she said scornfully, you did give me a wonderful ride. I don't suppose you know anything about the dynamite placed in this plane? Do you realize that I escaped death by one minute? But of course that wouldn't be anything. 'Plane crashes in Australia. Engine explosion. Too bad.' I can see it in the papers. now. She laughed mirthlessly. A varied group of expressions crossed his face. I-Ie drove in silence for several minutes while she stroked the little rabbit. Then, harshly. his voice broke the unbearable silence: Th e Western Syndicate has done all this to a girl, a girl with more pluck than any of the Syndicate men. I'll bet. I wish I had been more particular in securing a po- sition. You see, I'm a stunt-flyer, Harrv Bellevue. They offered me a good price to do this: said you'd killed a man and was beating it. Mariorie. after a good cry, told everything, money, friends, prize and all. After a while he said: I'm sorry, Miss. Lynne. I won't take th eir money. I You can bet on that. Here's a scheme. You're to say I'm a me- chanic picked up in Sidney. Then I'll skip. You-you'll forgive me for my part in this affair, won't you? Marj won the contest. However, the mechanic from Sidney didn't skip very fast, for Marj didn't agree with the last part of the plan. Somehow, it didn't seem to her that she was going to be without friends and money, long. Hertha B. Ridley, '33 THE VALUE OF PRAISE A little praise, some times travels a long way, when once set in motion. The editor of a big newspaper came into the ofnce one morning in an unusually pleasant frame of mind. Everybody on the staff seemed to be busy in their places and 'things were running very smoothly. He stopped, for a moment, to speak to an editorial writer. This paper would be a failure. Jones , he said enthusiastically, if it wasn't for your good articles. Naturally, Jones was pleased and inspired over a word of praise from the boss, and immediately he went to work on an article that he had been dread- ing for a week. With the words of nraise still ringing in his ears, he pro- ceeded to write the article without difficulty. When it was finished he took it to the printer. Here, Jim, set it up , he said to the head man, let's see how it looks in print. Well, this is a strong subject, jones, said the printer as he eyed the sheet. Pretty go o d article , an- swered the writer, but you know, it wouldn't be worth a penny if it wasnft

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M. F. H. s. P1Loi1' an fine. She imagined, suddenly, that she heard a motor boat. She found she was within two thousand miles of Mel- bourne and at an altitude of twelve hundred feet. She had traveled at an average of eighty miles an hour, all the way. She should reach Australia in about seven hours, unless-that was a large word to her-the Western Syndicate would get her. She didn't intend them to but she was alone and- Marj, stop your thinking. You're a real old hen. She laughed at herself in derision. Listen, what was that? A knock in the motor! Oh, Blue Again, don't desert me now , she cried. She looked over the cockpit and found she was a bove Singapore landing field. Then sh e decided that, very likely, the Syndicate had it all planned. They probably thought she'd be afraid of a knock. I'll bet they wanted me to land in China , she thought. They think I will be afraid of the knocking and will land. Setting her teeth in her lower lip and with her eyes flashing in anger, she examined her motor. We'll cheat 'em. Yes, sir. We'll cheat 'em. At last she found the cause of the trouble. Her face went ghastly white and she gave a terrible cry. There was a time bomb set to go off in ten more minutes! Marj , she began, according to her old habit, Marj, get uo vour courage, you'll need it, every ounce. Steady yourself. Now can you drag it out? She saw that it was screwed in. just eight minutes left, too! Where was the screw driver? She took her pocket knife and started to unscrew it. At last, all screws were out and she seized the bomb and threw it over- board, thirty seconds before it ex- ploded. One hundred yards behind her was a plane whose lone pilot saw the bomb go overboard with consternation in his face. Then he turned and streaked back through the sky until he was lost to view. Now the duty was done, Marj's nerves were beyond control. Nobody would ever know how close to death she had come. After a few minutes she braced up and, rising to a higher altitude, soon landed at Sidney, Aus- tralia. She still had to reach Mel- bourne, so, after refueling, she started off. Two o'clock found her at the center of the continent. She had crossed mountains and a desert since nine o'clock. Suddenly something told her to look up. A rope ladder had been dropped from a plane above her and a man had climbed down and onto her plane. Although she guessed he intended to harm her she couldn't help admiring this stunt. Both planes were going eighty miles an hour, three thousand feet up in the air. Then she started to draw the revolver. A cool, pleasant voice said: Now, young man, don't do that 'cause I hate to hurt a man who is smaller than I. just give me the control of this boat. The tall, slender young man held a pistol in his hand as he pushed her into another seat. Her voice trembled as she answered him. I, a young man. You fresh

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M. F. H. S. PILOT 23 set up properly, and I'll hand it to you when it comes to doing a job right. The printer felt proud when he thought that a man like Jones had stopped to drop a word of praise in his direction. After the printing was finished, he went out for lunch at his favorite cafe. He fe l t inclined to spread a lot of joy himself, so, when the little maid served him, he looked over the order with a smile of appre- ciation, and, as he started out, he spoke to the proprietor of the place. You've got the nicest place in this city , he said, and the best waitresses. I never go anywhere else, and I always recommend it to my friends. ' With a feeling of pride the pro- prietor watched his busy waitresses serve his customers. The printer was right. he did have good help. He would reward them for their remark- able service. He called them together and, to their surprise, told them that he was so well satisfied, he was increas- ing their wages. The waitresses thanked the boss but none seemed quite so happy as Annie Keith. She started home with a light heart. At the corner she ran into the cripple boy with his bundle of papers, and stopped to buy one. I'm not selling many this after- noon , the boy said in a discouraged tone. Oh well, you will , Annie answered cheerfully. It's early yet, and I am only one among many who have learned to depend on you always being on this corner with the evening papers, just call 'em and wait patiently. The little newsboy's face beamed with pleasure. Why-why, I never thought about it that way. I am glad to be of some use in the world, even though I can- not walk and work like other boys. The girl went on, but her message lingered in the heart of the crippled lad and his cheery voice attracted more buyers than usual. That night he told his blind mother of the beautiful lady, who had stopped to speak to him. The man who started the little word of praise to rolling had no way of knowing how far it went, but it's well to remember always that a little bit of praise goes a long way, and to give the bit of praise in every case where praise is worthy. Rudy Waldron, '31 POET'S CORNER THE FRIENDLY WIND Of all the voices of the outdoor world To me the voices of the wind are best. The wind that rushes free with wings unfnrlenl To toss the branees bare-ne'er to restg The balmy breeze that whispers with the pines And tells of darkly glowing skys at sunsetg The wind that in the evening howls sometimes When by the cosy fireside we sit. And let us not forget that mighty breeze, The ocean breeze that blowing fresh and cool To make the waves roll on in pounding seas And tells of realms where storms and tempests ruleg From raging tempest to the welcome breeze Of summer days-what better friends than these? Frances Carter, ' 31