Pickering College - Voyageur Yearbook (Newmarket, Ontario Canada)

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THE VOTAGEUR 31 Bright and early next morning Selkirk was up and away to his job as sodafjerker in Paw Parson's corner drugstore. As his ear shivered to a stop in front of the store, Betty came tripping gaily out of the front door to meet him. Good morning Betty, he gulped, his heart doing all sorts of acrobatics. Good morning, Selkirk, she answered eheerily. Paw wants you to take this money down to the bankfl You can bank on me, Selkirk grinned, but wished sheepishly after that he hadn't said it. He had just deposited the collection of small change for Paw, and was about to leave when up to the kerb slewed a big, black touring car. Out sprang three figures, one remaining in the car. Striding into the bank they yelled: It's a stickfup folks. Everybody just keep calm and none of you'll get hurt 'Otherwiseff' Selkirk thought swiftly. What would Dave Custer do in his placei' He hesitated no longer, but whipped out Davie and pointing it as menf acingly as he could at the bandits, demanded, All right, you yeggs, Drop those guns. Recovering from their momentary surprise, they wheeled about and riddled the kid where he stood. Then, conscious of what they had done, they clambered for the door and their waiting vehicle. Attracted by the shooting, the police were on the spot quickly and wasted no time in tracking down the thugs. Before they had gone a couple of blocks the touring car lay a bulletfriddled wreck in the ditch. Pressing through the crowd swarmed about the wounded Selkirk, Betty Hill knelt down and lifted his head tenderly into her lap. Selkirk looked up and gasped, Davie let me down. I guess I should have stuck to sodafjerkingf' Gill: ': 1xiAl-.lhlli ix. A ., i 531- ,,'EgW'f

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SO 'THE VOTAGEUR Q SHORT STORY Q Drug Store Cowboy by DAVE PIIIPPS SELKIRK CANNIDGE was at peace with the world as he drove his bumpy, jerky old Model T Ford along the dusty road between the small Kansas town of Garden City and the still smaller village of Great Bend. The number of holes in the pavement made driving plenty uncomfortable for anybody, but in Selkirk's car, this discomfort became magnified tenfold. Bumping and jogging down the highway, he amused himself by taking imaginary pot shots at equally imaginary bandits with a rusty old .45 which hadn't seen a real slug for ten years. It was Selkirk's prize possession, how' ever, and he would not have parted with it for all the world. After laying low one of these unseen brigands, he would lean over and caress the hood of his squeaking chariot fondly and whisper, We got 'em that time, pardf' And so he rattled along. Arriving at the shack which he and his old father Matt called home, Selkirk climbed down from his trusty steed and entered the unlit cabin. Matt wouldn't be home yet, and when he did come, he'd probably be drunker than a lord. So Selkirk fixed himself up a scanty meal from such food as there was, then sat down to clean his pet .45 He fondled Davie,-he'd called the gun after Dave Custer, the famous old Indian fighter-turning it over slowly. I've got to keep you in shape. Never know when I'm going to need you pardf' His thoughts drifted to Betty. Betty Hill was the only one who really believed in him and understood him, he decided. The crowd in town made fun of him, said he was a little touched in the head, called him a drug store cowboy. But Betty was different. She was kind and thoughtful, and even went to every wild west show that came to town with him. She went out with the other boys too, but Selkirk could hardly begrudge her that pleasure. Someday he'd show those other guys the stuff he was made of, and make Betty very proud of him. Suddenly his thoughts were interrupted by Matt crashing in through the low door, a halffdrained bottle in his hand. Have one, shonf, he bellowed raucously. Oh, go to hlazesll' Selkirk answered testily, thinking of chocolate milk' shakes, his only weakness. And why not? the bearded old ruffian insisted. Well, Custer never drank, and how can you keep a steady hand and eye with your insides filled with corn, Aw, you better go to bed, you're no fun at all. Selkirk did, but not because he was afraid of the old man. He wanted to rest up for anything that might happen the next day. He didn't know what it might be, but he had visions of sweeping down on a flock of warflike Indians, gathering up Betty, galloping off with Davie answering the flight of arrows with a fusillade of leadg a hero rescuing a maiden in distress. It didn't seem probable Selkirk admitted, but you can't prevent a man from being prepared.

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32 THE VOYAGEUR SN UWDIQI FT By Charles King I watched ' the furry crystal-flakes descend on a breath of frozen air and blend in jewelled cakes on the landscape bare. I watched the breezes blow the cloud-born blossoms back, across the wind-swept snaw to drift in sloping piles beside the track. as I watched s UI! the between a