Polytechnic High School - Caerulea Yearbook (Long Beach, CA)

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4 CAERULEA ,21 man fighting with his fists? Never! So controlling his anger the best he could, he answered, You, Ernest Rogers, who I thought was my friend, will I not fightf, The boys broke into more jeers and Tom muttered, Yello!w. Ivan turned on his heel and walked away proudly, his head in the air as became the son of his father. At last he saw things in their right light. The Americans hated him, very well, he would hate them also. He had thought of America as the land of the free, in which every man, no matter what his race or calling, was treated free and equal. How he had longed to leave war-torn Russia and to come to America. At last, after he arrived, how different it was from what he had expected. The teachers had plainly shown him that they thought he was inferior to other students, and now this final crushing blow to his ideals. His friends, the one hc-ld which he had in America, turned enemies. Why, people even in Russia were fairer-minded than these Americans. It was in this mood that he went to school for the next three months-not because he wanted to, but because he was waiting for a certain call,-a call that was bound to come sooner or later, the sooner the better. So he went on to school bitterly, hating everyone and speaking to none except when necessity demanded. The boys were openly contemptuous of him. The misunderstanding was complete. The school year was wearing on to a close. June and summer were at hand. The mountains that surrounded the town where the school was situated lay in a purple haze, and the warm wind which came from nowhere seemed to have swept the sky of all its flaws and blemishes until it resembled a clear dome of unfathomed blue that rested on the ridge of mountains, seemingly built especially to cover the industrious, busy city in the valley. It was hard for the boys in school to keep at their studies with the mountains so close to them, beckoning them to leave all thoughts of hum-drum life and to come to the mountains, to the great cool mountains where all was peace and quiet, 'where they

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BY lbllllffllsll Ill LILY Ivan did not think much of this for awhile because they were his friends, his brothers, as it was in Russia. After several days of playing and losing he finally decided that he would play no more, but when he told them this, they jeered at him and called him names. Ivan could hardly believe his ears. They who were his friends would never have done this in Russia. Finally Ernest Rogers winked at Tom Hargis, a wink, however, which Ivan did not see, and turning to Ivan, looked him over and said in slow, drawling tones, I wonder if the Polack Qfor so had they nicknamed himj can fight? I'll bet you four bits, Tom, that I can lick hinifi I'll bet you that you canitfi replied Tom promptly, returning the wink. Ernest promptly took off his coat and advanced to where Ivan was standing, amazed. He gave l1in1 a slight push and said in a fierce tone, Come on, you long-haired Polack, let's see the stuff you are made of. Then he pushed him again. Ivan was utterly dumbfounded. These boys, his friends, were actually trying to fight him, and with bare fists, too. Ah! At last he understood. They were not his friends, but his enemies. They had only pretended to be friendly to him because they wished to win his money, And now this fellow, his enemy, wanted to fight him. His anger rose. In Russia he would soon have made an end of this quarrel, a duel with swords or pistols and it would soon be over. But he could not fight with his fists. Who ever heard of a gentle-

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7 LITERARX 5 IIHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIHIIIIIIIIHIIIIIIHHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIHIIIIIHIIIIIIIIIVIIIlIIIIIIIIIIIIllIIvIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIVIIII!IIIIIllIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIlllIIIIIIllllllllIIIllIlllIIIIIIlIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIllllllllIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII could fish and hunt, and lead the untrammeled life that is so dear to the heart of the average American boy. It was hard also for Ivan, with that bitterness in his heart, to sit and study while he longed for that call which would send him back to Russia. Back to the Russia of his dreams where he would come to his own again and leave this accursed country. While Ivan was biding his time and the boys were impatiently waiting down in the busy city, afar off in the mountains to the south of the city Destiny was beginning to work its way in the life of Ivan Bonovitch, Destiny, in the form of a little fire which spurted from the end of a carelessly dropped match, a fire which ran along a dry blade of grass, a fire which flickered, flared, and almost went out- The next day a ranger rode into town and reported a small fire to the south of the city. He said that a few rangers were fighting the fire and that it would probably soon be out. He requested that provisions be sent to the men, and then rode off to get more rangers. It was evident that the danger was greater than the ranger had said, as s111oke could be see11 rolling up from behind the mountains to the south. At the high school the students were gathered in groups at the lunch period discussing, for the most part, the fire. In one group Tom Hargis held forth, giving a long account of a forest fire he had seen in Mexico and how it had practically wiped out a hundred square miles of forest and how all the men had been called to fight the fire for miles around, and how many had perished. A small boy with spectacles and a studious look, who stood at the edge of the group, shuddered. HI hope that nothing like that happens here, we might have to gof' He shuddered again. The rest of the group, with the exception of Ivan, laughed and jeered the boy. VVhy,7' said Ernie Rogers, 'Td like to see the dog- gone fire blaze up a little, then maybe we'd have a little excitement. To Ivanis amazement the rest seemed to concur with Ernie in this statement. That they should wish to see a fire destroy valuable property and lives just for a little excitement seemed to be almost