Morris High School - Yearbook (Bronx, NY)

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WANTED: AN IDEA alone. He tried to free himself from the hated bandage, but his at- tempts were vain. Those diabolic plotters had taken the precaution of turning out the light and robbing him of his matches. He won- dered what his chums were doing and also what they would say when the report of his disappearance circulated. Suddenly he remembered his idea, or rather, the idea for which he had advertised. He could surely write the story now if he were released from this place of imprisonmentg but suppose he shouldn't get out! VVhile he was thus bemoaning his untimely end, he realized that his captors were returning one by one, but strange to relate, their num- bers had trebled. Some one struck a light, and a dozen hands assisted the unhappy victim to a barrel, upon which he was forced to stand, with outstretched arms. Then a voice reached his ears-some one was saying, John Graham, you are guilty of trying to abduct a pris- oner! Then Graham realized that his name was known to his assailants, but there was, obviously, a mistake, for he had aided no fugitive from justice. The blood rushed like liquid fire through John's veins, but before the speaker could finish, or the prisoner vindicate himself, a noise was heard. With marvelous rapidity, the light was extinguished and Graham felt himself again dragged rapidly away, in what direction he could not guess. He was hurried along in silence, except for the tramp of feet, during many weary minutes, but finally, to his intense relief, he felt himself deserted by his assailants, and he was able at length to get rid of the hateful blind. lN'Iuch to his surprise, he found himself near the school. But still, he knew himself to be in possession of an IDEA. Rejoicing over his escape, and confident of success, bewildered though he was, he rushed to his typewriter. In a short while he had produced a tale of horror, dealing with evaders of the law, a faithful friend and a midnight trial. Well satisfied with himself, he went to bed, and in his mind's eye saw himself mounted on a glorious new motorcycle with scarlet pennants, embroidered with fifty. The next morning, the self-constituted prize story writer found a legal looking document beneath his door. With trembling fingers, he broke the seal, vividly recalling the interrupted trial of the pre- ceding night. The imposing document read as follows: John Gra- ham, you are guilty in the eyes of your fellow-students of seeking to abduct an imprisoned fifty dollar bill, and to appropriate, for your personal advantage, the funds needed for an oyster supper. There- 9

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manivh z An 3lhra OHN GRAHAM paced his room in despair, think- ing of that enticing reward, fifty dollars in United 5 States treasury notes, offered for the best short story. He knew he could easily earn the money fi if he had an idea to work upon. He had al- TX ready squandered two weeks in the vain beginnings f fs of six different stories, none of which proved satis- factory to himself. Now, as he walked the Hoof, a plan suddenly occurred to him: he would purchase an idea, an adequate, workable idea! To an ignorant layman, it may seem that ideas cannot be bought in open rnarketg but that was not the case at Ridgedale Hall. There the boys traded in miscellaneous waresg one could barter solutions to geometry problems for baseball tickets, or hideous ties bought in some moment of brief extravagance, for English themes. Graham seized the pencil and wrote in glaring capitals- FIVE DOLLARS FOR AN IDEA!! JOHN GRAHAM. He was trusting to the resources of his companions, who possibly had ideas but no desire to use them. He thought that the generous bribe might tempt one of the younger students, for John had hitched his motorcycle to a fifty dollar star, and was offering a five-dollar satellite to a less ambitious neighbor. After tacking his notice on the bulletin board, he went to supper. The boys were particularly gay that night teasing one another about the prize which had been the talk of the school for the past fortnight. Philip Burns declared that there would be an oyster supper if he received the prize. Many prompt protests assured Phil that he hadn't a chance, for f'Old Hickoryy' would not consider his productions till those chemistry exercises were complete. Graham, growing tired of listening to the talk about money which he already fancied in his pocket, soon left the building. He walked on, not caring where. Before he had gone far he was overwhelmed by what seemed to him a small army. Clammy hands covered his mouth in order to prevent an outcry. He was blindfolded and felt himself being carried away. Prisoner that he was, he could not escape from the vise-like hold of his captors, but realized that he was being carried down steps-it seemed to him, into a subterranean cell. Presently he heard soft sounds of retreating footfalls. He was 8

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PVANTED: AN IDEA fore, we charge you to write of last nightls proceedings and for your trouble you may keep five dollars of the prize money and reward us with the rest. just as he had finished reading the infamous scroll, Philip Burns sauntered in, followed by a dozen other fellows. Awfully jolly of you,,' he said, to aid us in this way. Really, we never should have thought of it, if you had not asked us for an idea. Cf course, John, old boy, you'll accept the five dollars for your excellent ability to cope with the English language. By the way, you must explain your presence in the chemistry store room last night. Of course, we would never have mentioned your being there, but 'Old Hickory' found a handkerchief there, marked 'J. G.', and is asking for you. Having delivered this speech, Philip and his hero- worshippers departed. Then John took his painfully acquired brain-child fondly in hand, and tore it into shreds. Forty-five of these scraps were perhaps put in his pocket and five deposited carefully in the waste paper basket. MARION RomNsoN, 'r6. what the Annual Quurh mania Of Dickens, the humour, Cf war not a rumour, The thrills of Defoe, Plus the mystery of Poe, From Franklin, philosophy, From White, his theosophyg The language of Steele, The fancy of Peeleg A humour pathetic, Composition synthetic: All this and much more, To enter the door Cf the Annual. H. GRACE GROMBECKER, '16, 10