Petaluma High School - Trojans Yearbook (Petaluma, CA)

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THE ENTERPRISE ’2 3 “There, ye’ll cause me no more trouble or pain, 1 bad enough and I won’t stand it,” and with the rooster slung over bis shoulder be tramped into the kitchen, flung it down on the table and growled, “Here’s something for dinner to-morrow, ain’t supper ready yet?” And the whole family breathed a sigh of relief. HUBERT KELLY, ’24. The Speeder Long years ago, in days of old, When speeders were considered bold, A boy who still was young and green Could burn up lots of gasoline. He did not fear, so folks aver, To speed through town at sixty per. He was so clever for a time He was not fined a single dime. But times have changed without a doubt Though other boys still speed about. But here’s the difference — note it well; There is another tale to tell; The Speed Cop waits at every turn For him who has much gas to burn. The boy who shows how good he feels By turning corners on two wheels, Will find as sure as he is born The judge will give him cause to mourn. If you can’t tell just “where you’re at” Until you mash some fellow flat, You’d better price your boat for sale, Than spend at least ten days in jail. The moral is — now get it straight — If you go speeding soon or late, You’d better learn before you pass, 4 6 Step on the brake and not the gas!” HAROLD WAY. — 27 —

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THE ENTERPRISE ’2 3 broke away, kicking the Colonel over as he did so. The Colonel ruefully pointed out the bruises even now. So he had a good reason to be careful. “It is not anything hard this time, Colonel, jest to hold as stakes Pete’s and my week’s wages, till Blacky beats Finnegan all to pieces.” answered Hal. “No, until Finnegan wins, Colonel, ’till Finnegan wins,” inter¬ rupted Pete angrily. “Surely, I’ll hold them for you. What did you say the stakes was! Your week’s wages ' ?” asked the obliging Colonel. “No, they’re not,” came a sudden voice fom the doorway, and Pete hesitatingly said, ”Er, Bridget I, I’ll win an’ you’ll be able to have a new dress fer Sunday. Come Bridget, come now” wheedlingly. But Bridget spoke up uncompromisingly, ‘‘Ye’ll do nothing of the kind while I have anything to say about it.” ‘‘Nor will you, either, Hal Rooney,” added Martha. The sight of the two portly women, sleeves rolled above their arms, hands on hips and good natured faces set in lines of determination, quite discomfited the luckless husbands. ‘‘Well, maybe we could bet somethin’ else. I’ll bet ye my pocket knife that Finnegan can beat Blacky. Does that suit you, Bridget?” asked Pete, looking at his wife helplessly. So the bargain was cinched, pocket knife for pocket knife, and the men wandered off to make their plans. How they looked forward to that fight and surely they were not disappointed in the start. The cheering and shouting of the men only served to excite the birds all the more, and flapping their wings and fly¬ ing) jumping, pecking and rushing, the fight continued thick and fast. Back in Matha’s kitchen, the two women plotted some way to stop the fight, and fate came to their aid. Pal, the Colonel’s big playful collie jumped right into the ring and teased those roosters until they deserted their own fight and joined forces, against a common enemy. Then Pete and Hal joined in the fight, but Pal only grew the more play¬ ful, the more mischievous and would not be stopped. Finally between cocks, men and sticks, he was caught and taken away in disgrace. Once freed of Pal, Finnegan and Blackey started at each other again, though panting and tired. Then Bridget had an ideal, a great idea. She sent word to Pete that his cow was in the sheriff’s corn, Pete gabbed Finnegan and ran for home. That ended the fight but Pete told Hal, ‘‘Wait until the next time Hal Rooney.” Once in the barn yard, Pete put down Finnegan and turned to care for Prince. The lust of battle was still on Finnegan’s brain and he instantly flew wildly at Pete several times and at last gave him a sharp vicious peck on the hand. With a roar of rage and pain, Pete grabbed the axe and brought it down on the cocks handsome head. — 26 —

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Nightmare (Sophomore Story) Y STORY is not the result of an inspiration, it is merely the “birth of a notion” and a story of cheese. Scene: Anywhere in Switzerland. Time: Any old time. Story: By no one in particular. Admiral Bologna of the Swiss Navy paced the deck of the flagship “Sinkorswim.” These lace pirates were altogether too bold. Curses! But we would see, Admiral Bologna was not a man to be trifled with. He would order the fleet (consisting of the Sinkorswim and two row¬ boats) to sea the very next day to beard the pirate in his den. The sun rose from the east in the morning. Strange but true. The Admiral came out on the deck from his cabin and stood on the bridge— of his nose. The fleet set sail the bold pirates to capture. Swiftly down Lake Geneva sailed the armada. Far down the Lake a rakish raft (they always are rakish in melodrama). It flew the flag of its profession. The skull and crossbones shone bravely in face of the Admiral’s fleet. The pirate craft was by far the speediest of the two and when they —the pirates—started to flee, Admiral Bologna saw fame and fortune fleeing with them. Ah—great men arise in any crisis. When Jolly Mike saw the pirates with their speedy craft, loaded with the finest lace in all Swit¬ zerland getting away, he approached the Admiral. “Sire”, said he, “the enemy is far the faster craft. We must use brains!” “Ho, ho” the Admiral cried, “I suppose you can help the dilemma.” “I can, by heck,” the jolly tar said, “Let us put some of the rare cheese on the nose of our craft and draw them within our range.” The Admiral gasped at the fellow’s nerve, but he saw that action was essential. A few brisk commands and a huge hunk of hilarious cheese was put on the prow. The pirates resisted temptation bravely, but the cheese was too much. They fell. Soon they were prisoners and the Admiral promised to divide the spoils among his gallant crew. Gosh! Time for school! Have I been dreaming all this! What won’t rampant imagination do, but then there is a moral:—Never eat Swiss cheese before bedtime, especially if you are looking for an in¬ spiration for English class. JOHN SULLIVAN, ’25. — 28 —