Petaluma High School - Trojans Yearbook (Petaluma, CA)

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SATUEDfff TFiE MUD FiGUf VICTORS y? TRIPLE TT 2 (Sophomore Prize Story) S TEVE was a light-hearted, loose jointed, long-legged, skinny, sunburnt, twelve year young Panky—Panky being his last name. ‘ ‘ Ste-e-eve-e-en. ’’ “You get up and down here in five minutes.” Fifteen minutes later Mrs. Panky laid aside her dish towel, and climbed the stairs. Steve had been dozing with one ear open and when he heard footsteps on the stairs, he tumbled out of bed. When Mrs. Panky reached his room he was in his union suit, pulling at a stocking. Being surprised that he was up at all, she forgot her threat and with¬ drew. As there were no further chances of dozing, Steve finished his preparations for the day which consisted of:— 1. Putting on the rest of his clothes. 2. Running a little soap and water over the parts of his hands and face which were visible in the mirror. (This often necessitated a second scrubbing by his mother of the parts the mirror neglected to display). 3. And last, dragging a comb through the forward part of his hair. This over, Steve stamped down to breakfast. During the morning his attention was divided between his friends Tom, Dick and Harry, the cat and a few other things. The cat had a reputation as a tenor robusto and on warm summer nights, he ren¬ dered odes to the moon. When fireworks could be obtained, the cat was treated to a brilliant demonstration. Experience made it obvious that the cat should not be held while he absorbed these principles of combustion. Dinner was eaten between twelve and one, after the appearance of Steve, due to Mrs. P.’s vocal efforts. During the afternoon, Steve and his erstwhile friends, Tom, Dick and Harry, participated in a sham battle. Steve’s cellar stairs had been selected as the only available site. Of course Mrs. Panky was safely down town.

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lITCPPPlg one of his previous exploring trips and it was here that he was to make his last stand against the long arm of the law. He had not long to wait for almost at once the posse swept into view and surrounded the cabin. Jim laughed at their stealthy ap¬ proach and again at their chagrin at finding the building empty. But the determined men were not to be so easily baffled and it was not long before they had found his trail and were approaching his hiding place. Once they got well within range, Jim brought his rifle into action, dropping the leader in his tracks. Immediately the posse scattered, dodging behind boulders and what few shrubs grew about. No one could be seen but Jim knew that many eyes were fastened on his almost impregnable stronghold and that guns were waiting for a chance to avenge the lives that he had taken. But no one would lead the charge and Jim began to hope that he might tire out his watchers. Each day, through a crevice in the rock, his rifle spoke, often with telling effect. But his strength could not last forever. The beating sun, the cold night air, scanty food and lack of water began to have their effect. Each day he grew weaker for he could obtain little rest. His throat became parched and dry, his eyes blood¬ shot and still the sun beat down upon him. But the agonies of the body were not all that he suffered. His mind wandered. He saw strange shapes that pressed nearer and nearer, shapes which re¬ sembled the men whom he had so terribly wronged. They pointed to him and nodded to one another. Then as Jim crouched back, his hands before his face, they would melt away. His mind went back to his boyhood days, his old companions, his old home, his parents. He was glad they would never know of his end. But always those strange shapes. Why must they always beckon and nod? Each day they seemed closer as though reaching for him. He shuddered and moaned in his delirium. Then came a day when the shapes seemed to pounce upon him. He flung himself to his feet, striking out with his hands at the groping figures. A wild, inarticulate cry welled from his lips and echoed among the hills about him. And with that cry the spirit of Crooked Jim passed into the Great Beyond to meet its final judgment. ANDREW DONOGH, ’21. —24—

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MTEPULjiS Rocks, clods and a hose were used. The clods produced the effects of bursting shells. The water added to the devastating effect. Note—Terra firma plus aqua pura—MUD). After the battle the victorious and the conquered betook them¬ selves around the corner. Here they engaged in coasting on the side¬ walk, while the pedestrians did their pedesting on the street. Mrs. Panky returned from town and contemplated, not without emotion, the havoc of war. Steve stopped coasting and was involuntarily ushered home. A private family scene followed. Moral: Sherman was right. HENRY RAVENSCROFT, ’23. AfflDFim Will HAPPFN (Freshman Prize Story ) ANNETTE CLARK, looking over the smooth surface of Lake Tahoe, was fascinated beyond words. The majestic expanse of water changed to gold by the sinking sun, the snow capped Sierra Nevada mountains in the background, and above, the deep blue skies, all blended into a picture which no artist could improve upon. Nannette took a long breath of the pure air and wondered how she could ever have preferred going to Canada to coming to California. It was Nannette’s first trip to the West and she had come only because her brother insisted he would show her a better time in the West than she would have if she went to Canada on her vacation. As she gazed over the lake she decided that if California could boast of other places like Lake Tahoe it certainly was the Golden State. Yes, Mark Twain had been right when he said that Lake Tahoe was the fairest picture the whole world afforded and - “See the boat coming, Nannette?” Her reverie was broken by the voice of Lawrence Whitten, a friend who had been at the sum¬ mer resort several weeks. She was suddenly very much alive. “Where? I don’t see any boat!” —26—