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Page 24 text:
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gone off at a tangent; and the paste sat there, guarded by the faithful Di, with the ardent sun beaming down on it fir to make your mouth water for an eskimo pie. At the edge of the underbrush he found Caesar, his little eohyppus, and rode him home. Me had got Caesar for a Christmas present the year before and was very fond of him. It happened that his father and mother could think of nothing to give him, so they had listened and listened and finally heard him say that he wanted a pony. The trouble was that he had not said what kind. Did he mean the little eohyppus kind or did he mean one by which the study of the Archaean language would be facilitated? For you must know that in those days pupils were started on the ancient languages much earlier than they are in our own, and it was not at all rare to find one who could speak to half the shades of the departed (had they not departed) before he had passed his sixth birthday. The family of Hi was very anxious to give him a good Christmas, so his mother gave him the Archaean pony, with “Hi Flier Yu from Ah Fher Yu—Xmas 5343 B. C.” neatly chipped in the cover, while his father gave him the little eohyppus with a slate around his neck on which was inscribed, “Merry Xmas to Hi Ther Yu from his father Hey Yu. This eohyppus answers to the name of Caesar, so treat him rough.” But Hi had not treated him rough, and so Caesar was very glad to give him a ride, and landed him in his own door-yard in a very short time. Ah l her Yu was still writing industriously, probably so as to get through in time for the post-man, whose moving van could even then be heard creaking up the street drawn by a pair of dinotheria. It was not often that Hi had such opportunities as this and he made the most of them. He made a bee line for the jerked meat closet. I he door was unlocked. No boulder was rolled before it and the whale bone stool stood invitingly near. There was even an oil can on the table, left from sharpening the hatchets, full of the best grade of Zerolene, and Hi I her Yu deftly oiled the hinges before opening the door. The closet was full of the nicest jerked meat and Hi gorged himself. Y hen he had enough he got down, replaced the stool, and slammed the door. It shut with a crash and the chipping stopped in the next grotto. Ah Ther headed lor the kitchen and Hi headed for the great outdoors. He reached it quickly, and con- cealing himself beneath some nasturtium leaves awaited the outcome. His mother lifted the skin at the cave mouth and stepped out. She had a stone hatchet in one hand and a mallet in the other and did not look at all pleased. She looked first to one side, then to the other. First she looked at the nasturtium patch and Hi shook all over, then she looked at the flour paste in the tortoise shell and he shook again. The sun had baked it quite dry, and Ah Ther was at a loss to know what it was. First she smelled of it. It smelled rather good. Next she hit it with the mallet. Nothing happened. Then she hit it with the hatchet. A chip flew. She picked it up and ate it, and a look of intense satisfaction crossed her intellectual face. And no wonder, for man has been eating that food for thousands of years and has not yet grown tired of ir; and here stood Ah Ther Yu, the first person to eat the first biscuit. Had she not reason to yield to unspeakable joy? Of course his parents were proud of rheir son's achievement, but still they were modest people and did not talk loo much about it. Nevertheless it has come down all this time that it was Hi I her Yu who discovered the biscuit. Hi was very well thought of after that by his neighbors and his family and himself. I he rest of them used to be continually telling the story to strangers in the village, and these would invariably go over to Ho Hum’s general store, where Hi could always be found sitting on a barrel of his biscuit, to get particulars. Hi was very modest about his discovery and down to the day of his death at the green old age of eight hundred and seventy three he would only reply to the question of whether he was the biscuit inventor or no by a gentle “I ’ll tell the world,” and when complimented on the importance of his discovery he would answer in an unassuming manner, “Well I guess I do win the cut glass stone hatchet, all right, all right.” [22] Dennistoun Wood ’23
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Page 23 text:
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(LITERARY) ABOUT TIME I WOKE UP Or How Joy Came into the World It was a warm day toward the end of June, and with the Palezoic Grade and Grammar School just closed» the little ten year old cave hoy was making the most of his time. All morning he had been chasing flying lizards and blue bottle flies until a young dragon had stung him on the finger. I hen his mother had sent him our to play with the animals, and here he was, busily engaged in twisting forty foot fern leaves into the dinosaur’s rail. “Quit jerkin’ your tail around like that,” said the young caveman (only his language was slightly different for English has changed much in the last fifty thousand years), “I ain’t goin’ to hurt you. Keep still. Ain’t you got no sense?” Me admin- istered a hearty kick, and the dinosaur sighed deeply and subsided hopelessly. He was an old, experienced animal, who had been in the family for generations, and he knew that the day after school closes and the day after it opens arc likely to be bad ones for rail pulling. But he was a loyal creature, and being sluggish from old age, he simply went to sleep. He was a particularly good children’s dinosaur as he had only been known to lose his temper three or four times during his long and honorable life, and even then he only killed two people. So he was admired and petted by the whole tribe, and called “Di,” and had a very easy rime of ir. Now that the dinosaur was quiet the boy was continually pushing him about, first to one side, then to the other. He made such a noise that finally his mother came to the door. “Hi Ther,” she called shrilly, “Hush up. You make so much noise I can’t hear myself chip flints.” Now this small boy’s full name was Hi Ther Yu, but he was generally called simply Hi, so when his mother said Hi Ther”, he knew that she was displeased about something, and he straightway turned over a new leaf. “Well, ma,” he said in a conciliating voice, “I can’t help it. Di won’t do what I want him to do, and I guess 1 got to get these ferns in his tail before midnight, don’t 1?” Like all wise mothers she refused to be thus beguiled into an argument, and went back into the cave, leaving Mi grumbling to himself about the ol’ dinosaur, and how ma was always crabbing about somethin’ fit to make a boa-constrictor choke hisself to death. The truth is that it is very hard to make fern leaves stick in a dinosaur’s tail, as everyone knows who has tried it. Hi had just about decided to quit, when a clever idea struck him. If those leaves wouldn’t stick of themselves he could stick them, so off' he went for some paste. His mother was writing a letter to an old college chum, as he could tell by the regular knock, knock of mallet on stone chisel. Now was the time! The cave had just been done over in tiger skins and the skin hangers had left a pound of flour behind. Hi had watched them mix their paste and knew just how to do it. Everything seemed to be arranged to order. 1 he flour was in a tortoise shell, the tortoise shell lay almost underneath the kitchen tap, and there was even a shin bone to stir it with. In an instant the paste was made, and Hi tiptoed outside and set it down near where Di lay asleep in the sun. The next thing was to use it; but first he would get some fresh fern leaves, because good flour paste is not to be wasted on broken leaves; so off' he set for the edge of the underbrush. It is peculiarly hard to stick to anything the first day of vacation. You are out for a good time and the first thing that attracts your attention is the easiest way to get it. So it was with Hi. He threw rocks at gila monsters, and robbed dodo nests, and made himself a nuisance to the whole neighborhood before he had gotten to the place where the ferns grew. And then when he got there he had lost interest in deco- rating the patient dinosaur, and was looking around for new things to pester. So it is ever with this life. If his mother had found him and denied him the flour paste, he would have made himself miserable for the rest of the day, but as it was he had [21]
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Page 25 text:
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THE STRANGE CASE OF MR. WALDRUA His very presence seemed to create a feeling of repugnance and fear among my fellow passengers. What it was that produced this feeling toward my unfortunate friend I cannot say. He himself seemed to be aware of his dual personality, and yet he could not overcome it. I had become acquainted with him at the outset of the voyage and yet, even though I may safely remark that 1 was the only one in whom he put confidence, he was still a mystery to me. At times he was a most agreeable companion, and then again he was sullen and morose, and ignored my attempts at friendship. When he was in his natural condition he struck me as being a very well- bred man. To listen to his conversation you would be struck with diverse feelings. Sympathy and hate for the man were aroused in your innermost feelings, and yet you could not substantiate either of your feelings. Lately, however, his actions had become very mysterious, and his appearance among groups of passengers would instantly break up any attempts at sociability. I took all these occurrences as a matter of fact until one exceptionally weird performance took place when the captain announced that the equator would be passed in twenty-four hours. The very next morning my friend appeared pale, or rather with a strange look of fear upon his face. During the night I had heard several seemingly unnatural sounds in his stateroom, as it adjoined the one I occupied. '1 he partitions were of a single thickness, with a door which was locked, connecting the compartments. I dispelled the thought of his haunted look, and greeted him with a hearty “Good Morn- ing.” His response was rather feeble, and when I inquired as to his health I received a very evasive answer. That day he seemed to be in very low spirits, and toward the close of the day I thought he might be losing his mind. A passenger happened to he standing near when up hurst Mr. Waldrua, and uttering a fiendish scream, ran as a crazed man to his room. He remained in the room the rest of the afternoon, and did not make his appearance at the evening meal. That night upon retiring, I lay for a long while unable to sleep. My thoughts wandered to the most unpleasant stories. 1 recalled with remarkable clearness every detail of a book of horrible murders. In fact, they seemed most natural to me as I lay in the dark. I reviewed the death stiuggle of a certain Monsieur Bibet as if I were a spectator of the encounter. A cold sweat had broken upon me, and some ill-omened feeling of disaster seemed impending close by. 1 had just been musing about the feasibility of a novel where a murdered man was entirely decomposed by a terrible chemical. The horrible details of his death seemed to haunt me with a peculiar presentment. Then again such thoughts as being buried alive came into my mind. Suddenly I thought I heard a shriek from the next room. Seized with fear, J listened in the death-like stillness and again the wild cry of a soul in despair rent the air. I jumped up, and with a superhuman effort forced open the door connecting the apartments. The sight which greeted me caused me to step back in horror. A huge black amorphous figure had the unfortunate Mr. Waldrua in his grasp. The look on his face as he struggled with the monster seemed to embody all the forms of physical and mental torture a man could endure. Upon my entrance this huge black figure released its victim and rushed upon me. With an instinct of self-preservation 1 battled fiercely but to no avail. 1 he very breath in my lungs was being slowly crushed out. Slowly I felt my strength being sapped from my body, and then all was black. When 1 came to, I found myself in the ship surgeon’s room, with a host of atten- dants gazing on me with a look of astonishment. For days I was too weak to utter a word, until one day I found my voice returned to me. I plied the people who- visited me with all sorts of questions as to Mr. Waldrua. I soon learned that I had [23]
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