Petaluma High School - Trojans Yearbook (Petaluma, CA)

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man whom he considered a weakling. It was easy, one shot, a story of the sand storm which had separated him from his companion, to tell the miners at the nearest stop, and all would be over. No one would doubt his word. Tragedies were common on the desert. His hand was on the gun and starting to draw it out. He thrust it back again, telling himself that he must wait until the mountain could be seen plainly. He remem¬ bered what conquerors of the desert had told him, that a man alone on the desert went crazy in a short time. He would wait. The sand and sun would remove traces of the shooting near the mountains as well as here. He looked at his companion, saw his back was turned, then took a long swallow of water from the canteen. This was not the first time he had done this. It was happening every few hours. An hour dragged slowly by. The pleadings of Dave for water became worse. He shook the canteen. It could not be more than half full. Dave turned, he had heard the splash of the water and began to beg for just one drop. Jim put his right hand in his shirt, looked at the distant mountains, then withdrew his hand. He was taking a big risk in losing his partner now. He looked at the face of the man before him. “The water will last,” he thought and poured a few drops down the throat of Dave. He still begged for more, but the canteen was closed and they staggered on. Another hour passed, his legs had lost all feeling, being forced foreward at each step like those of a drunken man. Still he kept up his courage, thinking of the gold that would be his when he reached civilization. He raised his eyes to the east. What he saw made him start. He rubbed his eyes with his rough hands and looked again. It was still before him. There was no mistake—a low ridge of rocks, which gradually grew higher farther away, lay before them. He looked more closely. Was it a water fall he saw? There could be no doubt of it; the sun made the water glisten as it fell and he thought he could hear the splash. A puff of smoke and Dave fell forward, shivered and then lay still. Jim stepped up and leaned over him, put¬ ting his hand to Dave ' s heart. Yes, it was a good shot, but now for the mountains and wealth. He rose and turned. A cry of despair escaped him. The mountains had vanished. A. PENN, T4.

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IkatJf Hallpg Two forms staggered over the sandy desert toward the east, the first a tall, slender man, who looked better fitted for an office chair than for travel on the desert, the other a man born to a life on the dry plains. “One more drink, Jim,” Dave pleaded. Jim’s answer was a gruff “No!” It was his third refusal and he knew that at the next plea he would have to give in. Half an hour passed and the dreaded request came again. With¬ out a word Jim raised the canteen to the lips of his com¬ panion and gave him one little swallow. Then they took up the silent march again. They had traveled this way for five days. A mule had carried their luggage the first day. The second they car¬ ried their food on their backs, leaving picks, shovels, blankets and the mule, dead from lack of wa ter, behind. On the fourth their coats were thrown aside. A few hours later three six shooters and two cartridge belts were discarded. The fourth gun lay hidden in the shirt of Jim Black. They had traveled in this manner day after day, Dave leading and Jim following. Jim carried their only full canteen. At times his hand went through the opening in his shirt and rested on the gun. Once it was almost drawn, but in the end it was still resting in its place below his heart. When the thought first came to him he put it aside as foolish, but now, “If I could only shoot him now and end it all.” He impatiently thrust the idea aside. No; the millions of hidden wealth which they had discovered would be enough to put thm both on velvet for the rest of their days. But he wanted it all, not to share with this

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UJlmt (gmk Mnts $»mk “Won’t you give us one more year to pay the mortgage, Mr. Dennis?” The question was asked by a young girl, not more than nineteen, of a stern old lawyer. “No; not one year nor one day longer. You took the mortgage for three years and the time is up Friday. I’d be poor soon enough if I went on extending the time one year after another.” “But it will be impossible for us to raise the money in so short a time. If we had one more year we could do it, for we have a good grain crop and our fruit trees are bearing heavily. We would be willing to pay a higher per cent of interest.” “That sounds well enough now, but when the year is up it will be the same old story. Tve dealt with women before and I know them. I get paid the $500 on Friday or I take the place. See?” Malina did not see. How could she see five hundred dollars in less than a week? She did see that it would be useless to talk any longer, so she rose and stepped to the door, but before opening it turned to see whether Mr. Dennis’ face had changed its expression. No, it was the same stern, hard face. As the door closed behind her, Mr. Dennis turned on his stool. On his face there was a smile that indicated the absolute satisfaction of having made some one less fortu¬ nate than himself miserable. The smile broadened to a grin and then to a laugh. “Ha, ha! I have’m in a pinch now. Never wait too long for a good thing! I have waited for this for three long years. I knew when they mortgaged the place that they could never pay it. That mite of a girl raise five hundred dollars in a week! She’s as proud as she is poor, though.” This last statement made him feel a bit uncomfortable. Malina, on the other hand, was downcast and worried. On the way to the office she had been so happy. She was sure Mr. Dennis would allow them another year. She had been so sure that she had actually counted the bushels of grain and pounds of fruit the place would yield. Now she was equally sure that Mr. Dennis was a hard old lawyer and that she would have a bitter struggle to raise the money. Before she realized it she had reached the crossroads about one mile from her home. One road led directly to her home, the other to a little wood. She stopped for a moment to decide which one to take. Would she go home? No. It would not be worth while to face her own thoughts. She decided on the one that led to the wood. Many times when a child she had run there to settle her little troubles and talk over to herself her little heartaches. Perhaps it held the same comfort for her today as it had then; she would try. The day was perfect. It was warm, but there was just enough breeze to make one feel comfortable. Ma¬ lina walked on, heedless of the trees that swayed in the gentle breeze; of the birds who sang their very newest and brightest songs; of the little rabbit that crossed the road in front of her; of the petals of the wild cherry trees that fell like flakes of snow at her feet and of the grasses and flowers that nodded and bowed as she passed over them. Any other day she would have noticed these things, but today she saw nothing but the scene at Mr. 14