Mount Jewett High School - Magician Yearbook (Mount Jewett, PA)

Page 62 text:

F'-:I Cn P, 11-1 LA'The lgsz magiei-.all llilz lDoesn'1t Pug to Slug Too Much Used to have a cat, remarked the trapper. It wasn't much, but it sure was a lot of company in a place like this. It was just like a person. Meat run out in the middle of the winter and I took the rifle and shot a few birds. Even if the season was closed, tain't no crime to kill something to keep from starving. The ranger shook his head. I-Ie tried to figure out what that fellow was driving at. He decided to let him talk awhile before he asked any questions. I took the cat along every time I went out, continued the trapper, and it got so every time I would kill a bird it would bring it back to me. He paused a moment and refilled his pipe. Well, one day, he went on, we were out with the rifle and I happened to see a powerful bird a little ways off. I don't know what came over me but I just up and shot. The bird went flapping into the brush. Knew I'd hit it. The cat went bounding over. I heard him let out a yell, that would make your hair stand on end, mister. I can hear it yet, at times. I ran over as fast as I could. There was the cat all torn to pieces, and a wounded eagle ripping at him with beak and claws. The old man wiped the tears from his eyes with the back of his hand. So, I shot the eagle. I knew it wasn't the right thing to do, but I was mad. There's a heavy fine for shooting an eagle, but I ain't sorry a bit. Thought I could keep you fellers from finding out. But I might have known you'd get word of it some way. Ierry breathed a sigh of relief, and replied, It's a serious matter all right. but I think it can be fixed. No sir, the trapper went on as if he had not heard, I ought to have known I couldn't keep it quiet. But I loved that cat. And so, when old Bill Poole came over here and laughed at me for feeling bad, and threatened to report me to you fellers - - - I Ie paused to relight his pipe. Why I just up and shot him too. --HARRY ABPLANALP fs ,- ZZ ..,... ., .... ' - g 6:1 .J-M f' ' . fi ff? N. Tie- . . A-jf! ,, 5 E M ' Fifty Ezght ,f , I I , v

Page 61 text:

Fifty Seven :the 1952 magicieul It Doesmft Poly to Sag Too Much Darkness was rapidly descending upon the Porcupine Hills when Ierry Webster, a ranger of the North West Mounted Police, came upon a log cabin that was almost buried in the under brush. He knew that he might not find himself welcome if the place was inhabited, but he was tired and it was several miles back to the lumber camp where he had left his motorcycle. Pausing a moment on the porch he raised his mittened hand to rap. Before his knuckles fell, the door swung open. Automatically his hand went for his holster. Come in, ranger, drawled the voice of the aged occupant. Webster was somewhat surprised but he didn't show evidence of it. Supper's about ready, the old man went on. 'Tain't much but what there is, is yours, as folks say. I'm ready to go along with you, peaceable like. Ain't no use in resisting an officer. Law up north here says that it ain't a crime to shoot in defence of your household. Tell you all about it when we are done eating. Webster nodded. You'll feel better when you get it off of your mind. Nate skillfully transfered the bacon and beans to the table and they began eating. Coffee'll be done in a minute. Help yourself to the biscuits. They ain't so good as mother used to make, but they're as good as you can expect from Old Nate the Trapper. Webster began thinking, but he had never heard that name before, nor was there anything in the appearance of this friendly trapper, that linked him with any unsolved crime with which he was familiar. Nate poured two cups of coffee and seated himself opposite Webster at the crude table. Reckon you won't take me out tonight, the trapper remarked. It's a pretty long hike to the railroad. I've got two bunks. We might as well sleep here tonight. That's a good idea, the ranger replied. I left my machine at the lum- ber camp so we'll stay over till morning. Got a warrant for me? asked Nate. I didn't suppose l'd need any, replied the ranger. That's right. You don't. I'll go. I ain't ashamed of what I've done. I reckon I'd do it again. f h The ranger was beginning to get curious but he didn't let it get the best o im. Anything you say will be used against you, replied the ranger. I know that, said the trapper, but I'm not afraid. After the meal, Ierry passed his cigarettes to the trapper. He refused by saying he preferred his pipe. Webster lit his cigarette and Nate lit his old black corncob. -.. ff:--A ' -'i7i'f1'L 1.v- '- sw-2, 1 .-.....,, . - 1 ini .. H,-f Zff-jl: - Q5--. -' ' 'X fig! ' ' f U I Q . Q . I RN.

Page 63 text:

VII . fl P , rin k-A l'he 15732 !VX'e.Q,ic:1 art-I 66lLupui'9 The tributary of the Yukon in Western Canada came rushing down the canyon of Death Pike, causing a rumbling thunder that could be heard for many miles. The forests showed the first signs of a new spring with budding trees and flowers. It was early spring of the year 1898, when Mon Pierre Cherok, a French half-breed stepped from the canoe to the bank on the one side of Death Pike. Pierre Cherok was a man of forty years. He showed the signs of hunger and weariness in his face and was dressed in nothing but rags. His face had the look of sorrow and hardship but his muscles strained under his clothes in strength. Pierre stood on the bank and gazed onto the mountains beyond and he mumbled to himself, I wish I were back in old St. Louis, twenty-two years ago I came to Canada for adventure and that same year I was declared an out- law by the Mounted for a murder I never did. God! Let me find the man that put this rap on me so that I may again become a free man to return to civi- lization. I have fled before the Mounted all these years in vain for they have found my trail ten miles back but I still have a chance of again escaping from their hands. As Pierre was standing there, he heard a noise behind him, and thinking it was the Royal Mounted, turned to confront them, but as he turned he stared into the eyes of Lupa, a wolf of the northern wilds. Pierre held out his hand and the wolf came toward him to feast on the lump of sugar in Pierre's hand, and as they stood there staring into each other's eyes, both man and animal became friends. Pierre camped on the bank that night, and the next morning began to get ready to take the trail. Pierre got ready to depart but as he was beginning to go Lupa fastened her teeth into Pierre's boot, holding him fast. Pierre swore and became very angry as he knew the Mounted were closing in on him. He dared not attack Lupa for fear she might kill him, so he stood there waiting for the Mounted to capture him and bring him to trial where he might have a chance in a thousand of becoming a free man, but this chance gave him hope. Corporal Iohnson with Sergeant Smith stuck to the trail, and they knew they would soon reach him because last night Lupa had left Iohnson to get Pierre. Iohnson spoke to Smith and said, Lupa, my L'orn wolf detective has got him at bay after all these years of trailing him, just to break the news to him that he is a free man and has been for many years since we caught the real murderer. Yah, drawled Smith, Lupa may be a Royal Mounted, but we better hurry or Pierre might do something desperate just to escape the noose, he thinks is waiting for him. F If fy Nine 'My 'X ffl