Momence High School - Monesse Yearbook (Momence, IL)

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1 € ing overtaken by the mad-man, and he broke into a wild run, at the same time shouting at the top of his voice: “Hey! Hold on! Hold the car!” His burst of speed was marvelous, considering that he was far from being dressed in a track suit. It was enough. He had committed the fatal error. The conductor had seen him. After the immemorial custom he waited until Thompson got a trifle closer, and then bland¬ ly pulled the bell-cord twice. The car fairly shot away. The blow fairly staggered Thompson; but there was no time to lose. Once having started to run, he had no choice but to continue. Block after block they ran until the side¬ walk came to an abrupt end, and Thompson found him¬ self floundering ankle deep in slippery, slushy mud. His fine clothes would be ruined, but the instinct of self-pres¬ ervation within him cried, “Onward,” and on he went. At last they reached a river. Here was his chance, Thompson thought. He could swim. Perhaps the fiend cound not. The deciding moment had come. Thompson was barely able to swim across. But with great consternation he perceived the monster had also swam across. Thompson was so exhausted from terror and exertion that he could go no farther. Slowly the monster approached him grinning. The grin changed in¬ to a blood-curdling laugh, and he put his hand out toward Thompson. Everything began to turn before his eyes. The mon¬ ster was upon him! As in a dream he looked up in that face of victory; felt his hot breath like a dragon upon him. “Tag!” he exclaimed, tapping him lightly on the shoulder. “You are it.” Then without another word he turned and trotted peacefully away. Thompson thought of the proud Arabella. He argued that he was. if Essay on Man. At ten. a child; at twenty, wild; At thirty, tame, if ever; At forty, wise; at fifty, rich; At sixty, good, or never. m: Almost One. “Pa, what is an agnostic?” “A man who doesn’t know.” “Then are you an agnostic, pa?” “No. Why?” ’Cause I heard ma saying this morning that you didn’t know any more than a pair of old shoes with the strings out.”

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Is I I—i 19 14 - The Cruel Street Car Company. By HARRY WIECHEN. N a beautiful moonlight evening John Thompson was walking along a lonely street in one of our large cities. He felt elated because he and Ara¬ bella White were going to the opera together. He had a walk of ten blocks to the nearest car tracks, but he did mind this; in fact he enjoyed it. The sidewalks were good, and the moon was as bright as day. The night would have been perfect in every way had it not been for the sultry warmth caused by a morning of heavy rain. About seven blocks from the car line he was compelled to walk by a large isolated building that stood several rods from the street, surrounded by a high stone wall. Every person experiences an uncanny sensation when passing a building of this sort, for it was a private sanita¬ rium for the insane. As he walked along enjoying the somber beauty of the summer evening, he suddenly became conscious of a soft, stealthy tread on the sidewalk behind him. On turniug around, he was very much frightened to find himself look¬ ing into the glittering eyes of a mad-man. Thinking it best to mind his own business, Thompson started to walk on with reserved haste, as he was fearful of attracting the disapproval of the mad-man whom he saw to be a man of great size. A cold shiver ran down Thompson’s back when he perceived that the mad-man was still behind him. He realized that his only hope lay in reaching the street car track, for he was in a new addi¬ tion and the houses were either half built or just finished and for sale. Thompson increased his pace gradually, expecting each moment to feel the weight of a ponderous hand upon his shoulder and to find himself whirled back face to face with those glittering eyes. Behind him he could hear the steady footfalls of his pursuer. It seemed to him that he could hear the fiendish chuckle of the mad-man as he gloated to himself while considering the most delicious way to murder his victim. At last he heard the clang of a bell, and an empty street car rolled into sight and stopped at the terminus. But Thompson was still four blocks away and the blocks were long ones—miles long, it seemed to him at the time. The perspiration trickled down his pale face in streams as he quickened his pace to the last notch possible. The car switched around to the other track and stopped. On, on Thompson went. Would it wait for him? Would it see him helpless at the mercy of a mad-man? Three blocks more! He could see the crew of the car lounging on the seats waiting for the time to start. But he could also hear the loud breathing of the man behind him; the air fairly hissed through his clenched teeth. Two blocks! A solitary passenger got on and the crew slouched to their places. In a moment the car would start! Thompson could contain himself no longer. The fear of being left behind was greater than the fear of be-

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lillp HIGH SHOOL ORCHESTRA