Pennell Institute - Whirlpool Yearbook (Gray, ME)

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LOL PLL OEE LOL, LS Ne ee Swe Be 10 THE WHIRLPOOL dow and drepped out. He walked a way and then rested, until he was taken in by Junk Brown, who happened along. Junk was a thief and he Was just returning from one of his moonlight rides. The next day there was a rumor that the teacher had disappeared and there was a bloody handkerchief on the schoolroom floor. The village deputy was informed and he set out to trace the murderer. Soon there was a crowd at the school-house and everybody was listening to the deputy and some were trying to get a word in edgewise. “T know,” said the deputy, “that this is blood from the brain ’cause I larned that much when I went to the deestriet school years ago. Now this ’ere blood is brain blood and this is a lady’s hankyehief with a ‘TI’ ‘broidered in one corner. ‘H’ stands fer Hayes as sure as [ stand here on my two feet.” “But, Mister Crane,” spoke up Junk Brown, “ I-—--—— “Tut, tut, we doan want none o’ your hash; eny man wid an addicashun ‘van-see all I’ve been a tellin’ ye. Now you, Bill an’ Joe an’ Mike, you all trace them sleigh tracks down by Pig medder, and zry an’ Neb an’ Jim an’ .oeeYes, you Junk might’s well come along.” “But,” said Junk, “I can pete ‘Never mind! You all do what I tells ye to. What am JI deputy of this hull shebang for, anyhow?” “But,” said Shifty, “He might... 1 mean he can...” “Perceed, all hands 0’ ve,” shouted Crane. They walked through woods, over bridges, and after a great many twists and turns they came to a small lake with one of its shores lined with many cottages. The sleigh tracks led to the largest of these and to this one they went. They did not stop to knock but simply walked in. They were no socner inside che cottage than the deputy saw standing before him the school teacher. He stared at her until she said, “Whom do you want, Mr. Crane?” “Why,” said Crane, “why. er ...er why, I—weel, you see, didn’t nobody known where yer wuz hangin’ out an..... an’ as there wuz some blocd down to the school-house an’ a hankychief with a ‘H’ in the corner an’ a lot a blood onto it, an’ some bloody tracks, an’ so we. er... I calkerlated as sombody must er wal... er took your life.” “Oh no,” said Miss Hayes, “only dear Tom came for me and took me out here. Mr. Crane, this is Mr. Raywood, the man I’m engaged to marry.”’ “Pleased to ter meet cher, Mister,’ said Crane, “weel, we must be goin’. C’mon, b’ys.” They took the same road by which they had come, and in two hours ‘ame to the outskirts of the town. “Now,” said Junk, “1 guess I'd a better tell yer now what cher wouldn’t lemme tell yer before. That blocd came from a cut that Steve Cronk gut

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THE WHIRLPOOL 9 The pearls were all of ordinary size. Still he worked on, thinking, dreaming that the next day, the next day he would find the pearl. He grew old. The waves seemed colder, colder. The little breeze that had blown softly round the rocks where he cured his oysters seemed rougher, rougher. He no longer worked all day, but often sat on the shore in the shelter of a rock and watched the sea-birds, skimming over the water in the distance grow fainter and fainter as his sight dimmed. He had become wealthy. His blameless life had gained for him the love and respect of his tribe. But to him his life seemed worthless because he had not found the pearl. His search was almost ended. But he would not give up the aim of his whole life without one more attempt. He went down to the water for his last dive and came up with a few pearl oysters in the bottom of his basket. He was too tired to go farther and sat down on a rock to rest. Tightly ¢lasping his basket in his hands, he fell asleep. In his dream a voice came to him, saying, “Be at peace. Thou hast the pearl for which thou hast sought.” But the pearl diver asked sorrowfully, “What if I can not get it out? I have toiled many years and am feeble. It is too late. Now I ean offer Buddha no gift.” Suddenly there glowed around him a soft effulgence, a subdued radiance, which mysteriously he knew to be glowing from his pearl. His pearl! What a wondrous pearl it must be thus to fill the air with its varied rays! Then out of the mist came the voice, saving gently, ‘The radiance cometh not from one of those pearls in the basket, but from one far more precious and beautiful than they. The white ray is thy pure, innocent life; the azure light, thy faithfulness; the rose-colored glow, love for thy wife and children; and the green ray, the immortality of thy soul. The pearl is thy life-long work, thy work, which alonce.is a fitting gift to Buddha.” HazrtL Wooprery, 712. How the Deputy Traced the Murderer The play was held in an old-fashioned district school-house. It was given by the pupils of Miss Hayes’s school. Directly after the play the spectators started home. The school-house was nearly empty when Tom Raywood came for Miss Hayes. In a little while the lights were all cut and the room was still. One could still hear in the distance the jingle of the sleigh bells. Then there was a loud crash. There in the darkness lay the prostrate form of Steve Cronk. Once in a while there was a hollow groan. finally he rose and half walked and half crawled over to the teach- ers desk. He groped about and found, lying on the desk, a small bit of cloth. With this he wiped the bloed from his face and then opened a win-

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THE WHIRLPOOL 11 when he fell down the schoolhouse stairs last night. Yer see he’s in love wid Clarice Hayes an he wuz a waitin’ roun’ ter pilot ’er home when he saw that air feller we seen back thar come up an march off wid her. He went up stair so’t she wouldn’t see ’im and when ’e gut ready ter come down, he fell down. I wuz just out exercisin’ my nag when I see’s ’im an’ tuk 7?im in an’ tuk ’im ’ome.” “Wal,” said Crane, “that simplifies things; why didn’t ya tell me before?” CrciLe LEAVITT, 721. The Wreck of the ‘‘North Star’’ It was Friday night and the storm had been raging for two days. The “North Star” was due to pass the light that evening, and the light-keeper was occupying himself by reading until he should hear the whistle that would tell him that all was well on board the ship. As midnight approached, however, the book gradually slipped from his hands and his thoughts drifted back to the winter before, when his wife and child had been with him. How much different the long evenings had seemed then! Instead of dreading them as he did now, he had looked forward to them as he would have to a feast. But the spring before, his wife and child had gone with his wife’s brother on a trip to Brazil and the ship “Sea Gull,” on which they had sailed, had never been heard from since it had left port. The keeper was suddenly aroused from these melancholy thoughts, however, by the shrill blast of a whistle. It was the “North Star.’”’ He knew the whistle as one knows a voice. But why did it sound so near? He got up and went to the window, and at each revolution of the light he could see the great ship plowing her way through the waves. He stood at the window, watching her pass, when suddenly he noticed that with each wave the ship drifted nearer the rocks, and it came across him that she had lost her rudder. He rushed out of the house and down to the shore without stopping for his oilskins and was just in time to see the bow of the ship run on to a ledge and stop so short that the masts were broken and thrown forward by the force of the shock. As he stumbled over the rocks to the ship, he could see two of the crew, who had not been killed by the wreckage, adjusting their lifebelts and jumping into the water. When he reached the ship, however, he found only one of the crew alive; the others were lying on the rocks where they had been hurled, and did not move except when some wave larger than the others rolled them farther inshore. He turned his attention to the survivor, who was badly bruised and partially dazed, and who was shouting something