Petaluma High School - Trojans Yearbook (Petaluma, CA)

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THE ENTERPRISE ’18 “Paul,” said Pierre after breakfast, “I had a talk with our friend last night and I have decided to go with him to war. Do you go with us?” “I—no, I—I can’t,” faltered Paul. “All right, I give you my traps. Good-bye,” and swinging packs of provisions on their shoulders and taking their guns, Pierre and the stranger departed. Paul stood in the door and watched them go. Finally they disap¬ peared over a low hill. As he slowly turned to go in, the mournful cry of the timber wolf echoed through the woods. He was alone — alone in the North Woods. The following morning Paul started out to make a round of his traps. Now that there was only one to do the work it would be much harder, so he decided to bring some of them in closer to camp. It would take at least two days to do this, so he took supplies with him. Paul did not anticipate that the traps would be so well filled. His success led him to believe that perhaps it would be better not to move them. He therefore decided that when he reached the point where Pierre’s course met his he would build a rough shelter, where he could store the pelts which he collected on the first half of his journey. By the time Paul reset his traps and reached the halfway point, it was quite late. He now noticed for the first time that it was colder and that the sky was darkly overcast. After eating heartily of his supplies, he crawled in under some overhanging pine branches, rolled up in his blanket and went to sleep. To-morrow he would build his shack. Late in the night he awoke. Snow was falling fast. The wind was whistling through the trees. It was miserably cold. The cry of the wolf again reached his ears. The sharp-fanged animals were getting hungry, now that the snow covered all the food. No, tomorrow he must not build his shelter; he must push on and save the furs in his traps from destruction. In the morning it was still colder. The snow had piled up in large drifts and was still falling. Paul may have been afraid of death, but he was not afraid of hardships, so placing his furs high in a tree out of harm’s way he pushed on. Anyhow it would be easier to keep warm by moving than by lying under a shelter. Paul Baxter had never before been in a northern blizzard. His traps were filled, but he made poor progress that day, not covering half of the distance. It was still snowing and getting colder all the time. He could not stop now. If he did, it would mean certain death. He must keep on until lie reached his camp. The cry of the wolf was much near¬ er to-night. Throwing away his coveted furs he struggled on, lighting matches that he might be able to read his compass and thus keep on the right trail. Behind, the wolf cry was becoming very clear and close. It was here that we first met Paul. It was all he could do to drasr one — 25 —

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(Senior Prize Story) T HE snow was swirling down so thick that one could hardly see six feet ahead. It was miserably cold. The wind blew the icy flakes blindingly into the face of Paul Baxter, who, on bis snow shoes, was floundering through the loose, unpacked drifts. Paul was afraid, not of the snow and the forest, but of death. Less than a year ago he had been working on his father’s farm in Michigan, the diaft came, he was selected, and would have had to go to war, hut lie was afraid, so he slipped into Canada, bought some traps, supplies, and a gun, and penetrated the Northern wilds. Winter had not set in yet, so Paul hunted and fished, meanwhile going deeper into the wilder¬ ness. During his northern journey he met Pierre Fontac. Pierre was also a trapper. One person gets very lonely during the long, cold winters of the north, so Pierre and Paul agreed to work and live together. They built their cabin and settled down for the winter, which was soon to come. They got their traps ready and then passed the time hunting and fishing. ()ne cold night Pierre said, “Tomorrow there will be snow. Soon we can get work. ’’ Sure enough, the next morning the ground was covered with a white mantle. Winter had set in. In a week, there was a foot of well packed snow on the ground and Pierre and Paul started out in opposite directions to set their traps. They planned their courses so that they would form semi-circles joining opposite the camp. Thus they would always return together from the tending of the traps. Late that night they came in tired, but happy. They had seen man tracks that day and things looked hopeful for the coming winter. ' - Tlie next day as they were lounging about camp waiting for time to In ing results, a stranger appeared at the door. He explained that he had a camp further north, but that he had decided to go to war, and was on his way to enlist. I aul thought that he had escaped all chance of hearing of the war but apparently lie had not. As it had turned colder, the stranger decided to spend the night with them, much to Paul’s displeasure. He had no liking for this person who reminded him of that which he was endeavoring to escape, so he crept into his bunk early. The next morning when Paul awoke, he found Pierre and the sti anger up. 1 hey were cooking breakfast and appeared to be in a hurry. — 24 —

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THE ENTERPRISE ’18 foot after the other. His gun and a small pack of food were his only burdens. He could not stop to eat the food, so he threw it away. Hark! The wolf cry was coming from the front now. Was he turned around? No, by his compass he was headed in the right direction. Presently green lights began to dance before his eyes and gray forms like those of ghosts to glide stealthily from tree to tree. Paul yelled. The lights and the forms disappeared, only to return. He raised his gun and fired. There was a snarl of rage and pain as one of the pack fell to earth, to be pounced upon and devoured by his hungry brothers. Paul searched in vain through his clothes for cartridges with which to reload his gun. Then he remembered that his cartridges were in the package of food that he had thrown away. But he would keep his gun; he could use it for a club. It had almost stopped snowing now, but the cold seemed to be only intensified. Would he never reach camp? The green lights and the gray forms were soon done with their brother and they again confronted him. Suddenly there loomed up through the darkness the form of a low hill, at the foot of which a cabin could be dimly seen. Paul gave a shout and stumbled on. The gray forms moved in closer, snarling and show¬ ing their white fangs. Should they let their prize escape? There was a distance of about three hundred feet between Paul and the cabin, but he w ' as tired. It would be so pleasant to lie down in the soft snow and sleep. The wolves were very close now. He could almost reach out and touch them with his gun. After all, they did not look so bad; they re¬ minded him of his collie, Jack, — at home in Michigan. Suddenly his snowshoe caught on a snow-covered branch. Paul Baxter, the slacker, stumbled and fell into a drift. There was a rush of gray bodies — followed by shrieks, snarls and the sound of crunching and tearing. About five minutes later, a line of gray, dusky forms could be seen trotting over the hill in search of something else to appease their hun¬ gry appetites. WALDO BROWN, ’18. — 26 —