Oroville Union High School - Nugget Yearbook (Oroville, CA)

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but then all detectives carry pistols. I decided to take a lasso along, for the detective had lassoed the villian in the last story. I might lasso the white dog and take him home in captivity. That evening I started out. slipping away down the trail which led to the deserted inn. ft was the ghost’s hour and this evening I knew they were out in lull force to mock me. I heard one following me down the path, another darting at me overhead. I began to see witches out riding broomsticks over trees and hunting lizards under rocks. My heart beat time to my now flying feet. I saw ahead the great white oak whose tangled limbs twisted over the ruins of the inn. I hurried forward faster, and. fearing the witch who I knew was pursuing me. I sprang up into the branches of the oak. The old inn stood indistinct, the dark green moss of the toppled down chimney mingling oddly with the wild ivy and honeysuckle that clambered over the walls. Hats began to flutter about like spirits, while owls hooted dismally, as if they were calling the white dog. things became gloomier, I began to sec all manner of strange sights, when suddenly I felt sure I heard something approaching. 1 held my breath, straining my ears. It came nearer. Yes. it was coining upon the porch. I got my lasso ready. This was surely the white dog. It came straight across the porch, sounding as if it had four peg legs instead ot one. My hair, from sheer fright, stood straight up. and this must have caused my cap to fall off. The ghost came directly to where the cap lay and looked up. probably attracted by the beating of my heart. The lasso fell front by hand and settled down over the 26 Water Kallinjt Over Crystal line ave— One of the many beauty spots of Table Mountain near Oroville.

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little unconscious heroine of the flag was carried down into the wondering crowd. “Who is she?” they questioned curiously. “Where did she come from?” “Was she left behind, or did she really go back after the flag? Elizabeth’s teacher pushed her away to the child’s side. She remembered the enraptured face as she told the story and she thought she understood. The black eyes opened wildly. “The flag-a, I got to-a get it, I-a.” The teacher lifted her gently and tenderly. Elizabeth's hands and arms were scorched but tomorrow she would be almost as well as ever again. “You saved the flag, dear. she said. Don’t you remember? You were brave and true to ‘the trust' when the rest of us forgot. “I be-a American now?” she asked pleadingly. “A really true American. the teacher assured her. “Oh. I-a be so happy for-a that. and she closed her eyes happily. They had the Fourth of July celebration next day in spite of the burned schoolhouse which wasn’t so badly damaged, after all. At the head of the procession was the flag carried by little Elizabeth—a loyal and true American. —CAROL HOWE, ’17 THE GHOST AT THE INN “There arc always chances for detective work right in your own neighborhood,” I read slowly out of the book entitled. Detectives and Their Methods.” Yes. I thought, yes, I guess there are chances, but the question is where are they? Then I happened to think of the White Dog’s Ghost at the Inn. That was just the thing for investigation. The White Dog’s Ghost was a thing which had been seen by a great many people in the neighborhood. It had been appearing at the inn ever since the early fifties, when a great white dog had gone mad and killed his mistress, a young girl. Eater he had been shot in the same spot for the deed. Something dreadful always happened to the person, 25 or to the family, of any one who saw the white ghost. Aunt Sarah, who saw it walking about the ruins of the inn. just before their house burned, declared later that it had a body of a lion, hut was white like snow. ()thers who had seen it declared that it had a woman’s face with long white curly locks of hair floating about it. One old man declared it to have a peg leg by which it left queer marks in the earth about the inn. This White Dog was almost always seen about dusk on Fridays or on the thirteenth day of the month. To-day was Friday and the thirteenth. The dog was sure to walk. Why not investigate? I could take the pistol. Of course there was only one shell and that was fast in the barrel. The hammer, too. was off.

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ghost’s neck. It gave one startled hound, springing away so suddenly that the end of the rope was jerked from my hand and I fell to the ground. The next thing I remember, a tall bearded man whom 1 did not recognize was bending over me. This was probably the person, I decided, who was masquerading as the white dog. He asked in a very pleasant voice, “Whose little boy arc you?” I was so frightened I could only gasp. “Who are you?” At this he laughed, saying. “Why, I am Mr. Snider ” And then 1 knew he was an old friend of my father’s whom I had never seen. “Now won’t you let me take you home?” he continued. The next morning while I was in the yard playing 1 heard a loud, “baa! baa! and looking up. I saw our old sheep standing at the gate with a suspiciously long rope around her neck and dragging down the trail. This must have been the White Dog” of the night before. OLIVE RUFF. ’15. A LADIES’ MAN As 1 stepped off the train at Daily. 1 saw coming toward me. not my friend, but an unusually large colored woman. She was as black as the ace of spades, but the sun shone through several holes in her big straw hat and lit up her happy old face. She wore a red calico dress with two blue patches on it and a bright green and blue checked apron. “Hello, honey chile. Miss Stella couldn’t come to meet yu, so I done come, ’cause I knowed yu’d have some luggage and it’s a mighty hot day,” she called to me. Before I could get my breath she took my suitcase and, taking the lead, she told me to follow her. “Come along, little missic. yu ole auntie’ll tote your bage fo yu.” she said as she waddled along at a good rate It was not long before we reached Stella’s home She was in the kitchen, and as we came nearer she looked out and called to us, “Oh, you are here, are you? 1 knew you would be hungry, so I stayed at home to get some lunch for you. and Mrs. Churchcl came over, so I sent her to meet you.” Before I could answer. Mrs. Churchcl. my new friend, replied. “Yes, we're here. Miss Stella, un it sure am a hot day. I jes' knowed it would be hot by dc way de chickens lazied around an’ never had no suspicions to lay.” By this time we had reached the house and Mrs. Churchcl made her way in and Hopped down in a big rocker. She pulled her hat off' and began t«» fan. as if her life depended on it. Then she put her hat on the table, and using her blue and green checkered apron, she mopped the perspiration from her face. This was the first time she had removed her hat. so I got my first glance at her hair, unruly, kinkey curls pulled back in a walnut and securely pinned with toothpicks. While she went through these various maneuvers, 1 removed my things. Then Stella told me to sit down and rest while she finished preparing lunch. I told her