Polytechnic High School - Polytechnic Student Yearbook (Los Angeles, CA)

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THE YELLOW STREAK Harold Cooke, S'14. The fire died away slowly. Hudson-watched with interest the dense black clouds of smoke roll from the building under the steady streams of water the firemen were playing. Here, Hudson, a fresh break out in front, shouted the captain from aiound a corner. At the same time the terrified shriek of a woman filled t e air. Hudson, again the captain shouted. Hudson hesitated, but at the second scream he rushed forward, brushing the crowd aside recklessly, hearing at the same time a faint Hudson shouted by the captain. The fire was out at last, but the damage was great. The men were tired, sore at the loss, and disgusted with everything. As the engine was backed into its place at the fire station, the captain arrived on his motorcycle. Hudson, what do you mean by disobeying orders? I want an explana- tion, he angrily exploded. Well, sir-ah-the woman's ery-I- Woman nothing! You know that when you are ordered you must obey, :nd you know the penalties. I don't care if there are fifty women needing elp. Yes, sir. No grandstand plays go with me, I tell you, and see there are none hereafter, he said, as he shook his fist for emphasis. That will be all, Hud- son, this time. They think I'm a coward, that I was afraid to climb that old ladder as Hogan did. I'll show them, he muttered. They think it a huge joke that I should show yellow, he growled to himself as he turned around. I guess that will hold you. Got your number, IIuddie? and Oh, you pretty boy, greeted him as he entered the sitting room where his comrades sat playing cards. Let me in the game, Shorty, and we will make it four-handed, pedro, or anything you want, he demanded of the man who sat at the table idly fingering the cards. No, beat it, we don't want you in it, and Run along, ma's boy, they answered him. Ile smiled rather sickly. It's better to smile that way than not to smile at all, he thought as he went down to the telephone. Vermont 2704, please. After a pause, I'Iello! ls Helen there? Helen? Yes, but she just left with Hogan, shall I call her? No-I-you needn't, he stammered. i351

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THE HISTORY OF A HEN Mildred A. Jordan, S'14. My mother intended to kill the little, soreheaded chick that had strayed to our place, but it found a soft spot, without any difficulty, in my childish heart, and I determined that die it should not. It was indeed a sad picture that chick, standing on long, gawky legs and seeming to care very little about its drooped head. I sat on the wash bench, with my chin in my hand and pondered. Finally I had an inspiration. I had seen Ellen Green-Ellen Green was the cook- put common coal oil on the heads of chickens afflicted in this manner. That would surely save the chick, I decided, if I could only keep him hidden in a safe place. With few objections on the part of the chicken, I wrapped him in my checked apron, then found a soap box, and journeyed far down past the garden into the weed patch, put the chicken under the box and went to find the oil can. I had just succeeded in locating it when my mother came out and asked me what I was doing there. At last, however, she went away. I got the can and slipped back to my patient. I fished out the disconsolate fowl, placed him between my knees and be- gan the treatment. After putting the oil on his head, I decided that as he was a very sick chicken, it would be well to anoint the whole body. Proudly I tended him every day, watching over him with the most tender care, thinking always of the lusty cock that would astonish my cruel family. My hopes were almost dashed on the third day when his feathers began to come off one by one. When I tried to make them grow again by putting on more oil, he strongly objected and I decided that he was getting better. In a week he was well and running about. I-Iow proud I was! One day my mother informed me that my chicken had laid an egg. Laid an egg? I was disgusted. He was a hen. It grew into a big, fat hen, perfectly willing to adopt any stray little chick that happened along, a proverbial stepmother, my father said. He added that it was crazy, that the oil had gone to its head, but I always in- sisted that thc poor thing must have had typhoid. l34l

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Some of those fellows have told her. Why can 't they keep their mouths shut and mind their own business? He slowly pushed open the door and stepped out into the night. A cold north wind blew up his shirt sleeves, OH the snow banked deep against the house. Whew! What a night for a Iirc! A fellow would freeze to death go- ing to it, he chattered as he went back upstairs and prepared for bed. They'd better be ready, he mumbled, laying his trousers and buckled shoes at the foot of the bed. Blamed bad night for a fire. He awoke with a start, blinking at the lights. He heard the men rush- ing in the next room as he jumped into his trousers and buckled a shoe, but the other one? He looked on the chairs, under the bed and rugs, but it was too late. He slammed open his swinging doors and dropped down the brass pole just in time for a hold on the back stand as the driver threw oi the self-starting switch and dashed his machine into the street. Late, as usual, I-Iuddie, called the driver as Hudson donned his fire coat and long billed hat. Wherein he gasped, as the wind whistled past him. No. 21, right down town, shouted the driver, increasing his speed. . They were already in the business section of the city, and the screaming, death-warning cry of the deep-voiced siren echoed among the buildings as thy swerved around a corner and met the full blaze of a large fire two blocks ahead. One hose was already playing a stream upon the four stories of brick when they arrived. An awful start on us. You are late, shouted the captain as Hogan and Hudson unrolled their hose. Here you two, down this alley, play it on the second-story windows in the rear, save that and we can save the rest. If you don 't- And he rushed off in the darkness. They were freezing with the cold. The hose nozzle leaked, sending a thin, drenching spray over them. Hudson's shoeless foot was already numb, and the thin sheet of ice on their clothes was growing thicker. Play it in the other window, suggested Hogan. Slowly the stream splashed from one window to the other, but not without eifort from the men, for their muscles burned and pained when they moved. Their hands froze to the brass handles, and the wind driving through their icy clothes chilled them to the bone. I can 't stand this much longer, complained Hogan. Back up against the fence. With the fence at their backs the wind did not cut so cruelly, but the ice soon fastened them to the wall. Iiet's get out of here, we will freeze to death in a minute. It will soon be over, answered Hudson, shaking all over. But I tell you we will freeze, I can't move my hands now, they are l36l