Pennell Institute - Whirlpool Yearbook (Gray, ME)

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THE C ERRI ЛОУ e EE E Literary... LOST IN A STORM “Hey, Dave, Arnold yelled, haven't you got those deer skins loaded on yet? You know we've got to get home before dark. Dave glanced up from the bobsled, to which were hitched two restless bay Per- cherons. “Gee whiz, Arnold! I’ve loaded every- thing on so far. If you want those darn skins youll load them yourself. And also, for your information, we're leaving as soon as I get ready and not before.” Finally, after much bickering and hurry- ing. the two boys were ready. Dave picked up the reins and the red bob slid out of the yard of the old lumber camp. Dave and Arnold were two Canadian boys, seventeen and eighteen. They had hunted ever since they could held a gun, but this had been their first real hunting trip. They had been at the lumber camp at Merrimachi for two weeks and the sled now held the bodies oÍ two deer, as evidence of their luck. As the horses trotted along through the snow Arnold gave a worried glance at the sky. “You know, Dave, I don't like the looks of the weather. I'm afraid well run into a storm before we reach home,” he said. Dave had hardly had time to agree before a small white flake landed on his shoulder. He let the horses go into a guicker pace. They still had forty-five miles to go before night came. Merrimachi was only a small settlement in the wilderness. An hour later. the snow was coming down steadily. The wind blew harder and Dave and Arnold bent their heads to the wind and pulled the deerskins around them. When T и elve they reached the crossroads. Dave slowed down the horses. “Say, Arnold,” he shouted, raising his voice above the howling wind, “which road do we take? The left one, don't we? I think so, Arnold replied. Dave turned the horses down the leít road, but the horses immediately stopped. Get up there! he shouted. “This is a hell of a time to get balky.” Не brought the reins down on their backs with a resounding whack which made both horses spring forward. but plainly against their will. About half an hour later Dave began to doubt his own judgement. The road gradu- ally dwindled down into nothing but air over- grown trail. He looked despairingly at Arnold and stopped the horses. Well. what now? he asked. “This is plainly not the right road. Arnold suggested turning back and start- ing out again at the crossroads — but it was snowing so hard that it was impossible to see any tracks. Finally, they decided to leave it up to the horses. They turned them around, then let the reins lie loose. The horses immediately turned to the right and started across what evidently was a field. Knowing that they were completely off the road now, Dave reached for the reins, but was stopped by Arnold who told him that the horses could certainly not get them lost any worse than they already were. Dave finally resigned and settled down to keeping warm. The two horses plowed on through the snow, evidently very sure of where they were going. The two boys wished that they, too. were às sure.

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Seated, left to right: SS = INNELE IN OL SSeS Pauline Ferri, Charles, Barter. Norma Bishop. Mr. Dempsey. Advisor; Beverly Maxwell, Leslie Taylor, Barbara Mason, Neal LaVallee, Ray Johnson was absent when picture was taken. STUDENT COUNCIL... OFFICERS President BEVERLY MANWELTI. Vice President LesLIE TAYLOR Secretary NORMA BISHOP Treasurer PAULINE FERRI The members of the Student Council are as follows: Freshmen — Barbara Mason, Ray Johnson; Sophomores—Norma Bishop, Charles Barter: Juniors — Pauline Ferri, Neal LaVallee; Seniors—Beverly Maxwell, Leslie Taylor. We planned to hold a meeting every Mon- day afternoon. Our duties are to protect the school prop- erty and improve the work and spirit of the school by seeking the cooperation of all mem- bers of the student body. In addition to our regular duties we elected the cheerleaders: Freshman, Jean- nette Bishop; Sophomore, Erminie Crandall : Junior, Pauline Ferri; Senior, Viola Hatch. Alternates: Barbara Nichols, Pauline Stew- art. Norma DIsHOP, 49. Eleven

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Suddenly something huge and dark loomed up through the dimness. Dave and Arnold rose to their feet. The horses seemed to realize that they had done their part so they stopped. Through the falling snow showed the famaliar shape of a house. Both boys lei out a cheer as they recognized the farm of their friend, Mr. Andrews. They leaped off the sled when Mrs. Andrews opened the door. “Hello. Who is it?” she called out. Dave and Arnold ran up to the door and grected her. Mrs. Andrews told them to stable their horses and then come into the house and have some hot chocolate. After their chores were done they returned to the house to tell the Andrews their story. Mrs. Andrews smiled as she listened. “You know, boys.” she said, “those two horses were raised on this farm. No matter where they are, they always head back here.” The next morning the snow had stopped so the boys again started out on their way: this time more sure of reaching their desti- nation. FAE WILSON. NATURE'S ARTIST Jack Frost, dressed in his red hat, green Jacket, yellow pants, and long brown shoes with turned up toes is busy at work again. Gayly racing over hills and valleys, with his brush and pallet, he brings a new dress for every tree. He works swiftly and silently. from the highest to the lowest branch, big trees and small. A dab of red. a touch of yellow, a splash of orange; and a wonderful transformation takes place. Working while everyone else is asleep, he throws a blanket of milky-white frost over the fields, and paints frost pictures on your windows, beautiful designs no one could copy. No artist’s work can compare with this magic spell he paints over the country side. When the snow begins to fall, he curls up in a hollow tree trunk on a bed of his newly decorated leaves and falls asleep ‘til the next fall. VioraA НАТСИ. PENNELL INSTITUTE “BABE” GETS REVENGE Babe Johnson had been out of prison two days. He had, in those two days, formu- lated a plan for revenge. The object of his vengeance was District Attorney Whitmore. Whitmore was the man who had put the “Dabe” behind bars. Now, he would pay. “Babe” had served six years: too long a time to forget about. Johnson had collected materials for the carrying out of his plan. All was in readiness. It was on Friday, the thirteenth of Septem- ber, that “Babe” went through with his idea. Eleven o'clock at night, Babe put his equipment in a black satchel and went to Whitmore's house. In the satchel he had dynamite, caps, and wire. In his pocket were a flashlight, jackknife and a .38 caliber auto- matic for emergency. At Whitmore's home, “Babe” jimmied a cellar window open and climbed in. Snap- ping on his flashlight, he looked the cellar over. Yes, this was perfect. Over in the corner was that which he looked for — the electric meter. Babe worked swiftly. He wired the meter, put the caps on the dynamite, and connected it to the wired meter. That was perfect. When Whitmore woke up and turned on a light, the meter dial would turn. When that happened the dynamite would ex- plode. “Babe” put away his tools and started for the window. Patrolman O'Reilly was walking his beat half a block from the D. A.'s house. At eleven fifteen P. M., the whole world seemed to burst asunder. A livid sheet of flames shot fifty feet into the air. The noise was deafen- ing: the ground trembled and shook. Whit- more's house was blown to bits: Whitmore and “Варе” Johnson were both killed. “Babe's” handiwork had been ingenious. Nothing had gone wrong except that “Babe” didn't Know that the D. A. had an electric refrigerator. It started as “Babe” was going out the window. Austin Kvcu. Thirteen