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

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A DESERT TRAGEDY Joe Morris, W'l7 Sunshine, brilliant, blinding, pitiless. For miles in every direction this white-hot glare reached out and played about the desolate sands. In what seemed to be the center of this fiendish furnace of nature there were a few scorched bunches of sage, a few white scattered bones, a few heat-tempered old rocks where drowsed a single lizard, the only happy thing in all this parched isolation. Presently, from behind the rocks, a man, with every promise of youth and hope before him, rose to a sitting posture and gazed with a strained, despairing look out into the sunshine. His face then assumed an expression of eager ques- tioning as he detected far off to the north a faint movement. Was it a ghostly motion, or a stir of life? Or was it only one of the mad tantalizing tricks of the sun, the demon of the desert? As the boy shaded his aching eyes with his hands, he saw a little group of horsemen taking their way across the desert. The steps of the cavalcade seemed to become very slow, to falter sometimes, but yet their figures became smaller and smaller and finally melted into glints of eternal sunshine. Still the lad by the rocks gazed on as though the very silence of the desert must repent and yield up some life, some hope of escape from this oneness of horror. Could anyone have seen his face then he would have caught the revela- tion of a succession of soul struggles which seldom rests upon the face of one so young. There was no attempt to conceal his feelings, instead, there was an unconscious portrayal of every thought as he rested there face to face with him- self and his God. As long as the group of horsemen was in sight, there was eager hope in the eyes which followed it. Was it hope that the steps of the only other human being who could aid him in that fiery wilderness would turn and once more offer help to the one left behind? Or was it merely a hope that the sight of human beings would not fade away forever? The hope was there anyhow, it was there until it changed to one of sickening despair, of forsaken loneliness, of bitterness, it was a death-like giving up of hope. There was movement beside him. The boy took one last look at the vastness about him and then looked at the pitiful object at his feet. For a brief moment there was an expression of bitter hatred on the young face. He neither moved nor spoke at first, as a resigned, patient voice asked, Where are we now, Laddie? Are the others still with us? Then, with a rush of tenderness the boy leaned over the old man whose sightless sun-blind eyes stared helplessly about. For a moment there was a thought of evading the sick man, but, as the question was weakly but insistently repeated, the younger man answered calmly and dispassionately, No, Mate, the others went on while you slept. They hated to go but you know the water gave out yesterday morning, and-and so they just had to go on, you see. There were enough horses left to take them so I told them you and I were tired of riding anyhow. The little note of courage and jocularity failed utterly. The old man began to sob in painful, weak, heart-broken gasps. Laddie, oh, my Laddie, why did you do it? Why did you stay with me? The feeble sobs came more slowly and painfully, the weak voice grew weaker. Little Laddie, you know I can live but a few hours longer and I don't mind staying alone till the end. I couldn't have gone any farther. But you,-you could have gone on. Youhave all your life before you. You have so much to 35 -

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Well, he mimicked, what are We going to have for breakfast? Fried potatoes, coiee, muff- Look here, I demanded, how much of this sort of thing does one have to stand on such expeditions? Do I have to sit by and see you shoot snakes and then listen calmly while you recite a bill of fare? If that's in the profession, then you may withhold my diploma. It's me for civilization tomorrow. Jerry commenced apologies and explanations. I got sleepy listening to them and I told him so. He suggested that we turn in. I clung to the suggestion with a frenzy. I thought, perhaps, sleep would annihilate further discomfitures. But alas! Jerry began to undo the bundle containing our sleeping hammocks. I watched eagerly. I had found a. good place to swing mine, but my bag wasn't there. Only one fell out. Where'd mine go to? I demanded. You must have forgotten it, he smiled in a half-witted fashion. Forgotten it! You forgot it yourself. Who tied 'em up? It was you. Now, you can give me yours. It 's your fault. Jerry knew I was determined, but he saw a Way out. t'Let's draw straws, he condescended. I thought of the snake and my chances of sleeping on the ground if I lost. Nix, I said, we'll both sleep in it before I'll do that. All right, he consented, we'll both sleep in it. Let 's tie it up. S 2? if if il ill SF A few hours later found Jerry and me swaying side by each in the hammock between two trees we had selected for the purpose. However, our attitudes were different. Jerry slept-actually snored, I remained wide awake. I was deprived, even, of the alternative of a deep sleep in which to smother my discomfiture. And now, to multiply my troubles tenfold, came more bugs. They were of all denominations and shapes. Some resembled aeroplanes. One passed over my head about midnight. He was of the monoplane type. I struck at him, and he chose a higher altitude. He hovered around a long time, I know, for I heard his engine wheezing in mid-air. I looked every minute for a bomb to drop. Finally, with a spiral dive, he struck my head and began some sort of a tattoo on my forehead. I made a flank movement from the rear and broke his propeller. He fell to the ground. I had hoped this victory would discourage any further air raids, but it didn't. All night the bugs maneuvered above our camp. And, blast it all, Jerry slept. The next morning, when Jerry awoke, I had my skillet, my blanket, and my side of bacon thrown extraordinarily carelessly across my shoulder. Where're you going? he called to me. Where It came from-home, I let him know. Wha.t! You're not leaving me now, are you? I'll wait till you've packed, I replied coolly. But-bu- HX: 'lk 3? it :lk IF Sk Well, I shall not discuss this particular adventure to a further degree. You will now readily gather my point-is camping enjoyable? From a professional point of view-perhaps. In line with my vision there's a peculiar oddity con- nected with it. The joy is only for those who hear you tell about it afterwards. Camping !-a strange condition in the affairs of men. Strange, I repeat. 34

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live for-to live fer. The weak voice died away in whispers. 'tAnd by another night you, toe, will be too weak to go on. The torturing thought gave a final, mighty strength to the old man. He half raised himself and whispered hoarsely, HLaddie, did they leave your pinto for you? Yes, Mate, lied the boy steadily, as he looked at the lifeless desolation about him, little Pint is standing over there by a clump of sage and I ean follow the others whenever l get ready. Don't worry now, Mate, you have stuek by me to the finish every time, and now I am yours. Witli a childish sigh of content the siek man sank back and muttered fever- ishly, VVater-just a little bit of water-I know--not much-a little water-M the sun-it seorehes me so. VVl1ere is little Laddie? He would take me to the shade-to the shade. VVith an almost impereeptihle shudder and one glance up at the sun, the boy took off the thin shirt which he wore and held it over the face of the mutter- ing old man. For an interminable length of time the boy sat thus, blind and dizzy while the sunshine scorched the bare, quivering flesh of his back. Now and again the old man would rouse himself and say lovingly, 'tYou are sure you will follow the others in a few minutes, Laddie? And always the younger man answered steadily, eheerily, 'tln just a little while, Mate. All thought of time lost afterpthat. The boy was conscious only of a vague impression of heat and thirst and torture, of the faint mutterings beside him. Except for that, everything was a white-hot blank. It might have been years later that the boy was roused by a death-like grip on his hand. He looked stupidly at the figure beside him and realized dimly that death was indeed claiming him. The old man clutched his companion with one last, long grip and sighed happily. Home-home. Thank God, Laddie, you brought me home. There was another sigh, apparently of joy, and the lonely man had indeed gone home. And the boy beside him? He half rose and looked onee more out, out into the sunshine. out into the blinding path whither his companions had disap- peared. Then, with a weak little laugh and no attempt to shake off the grasp of the dead man. he sank back beside his Mate. THE BEE ' Marie Hammond, S '18 Buzzing thru the fragrant air, Free from every thought of care, Gathering honey from the tiowers, Spending thus his waking hours, First upon the sage he lights, Sipping honey brings delights, Then to fields of clover flies, Settles 'neath the azure skies ln the blossoms, fresh and sweet, Withered not by summer's heat. Now the rays of setting sun Tell the bee his work is done, Homeward then he wings his flight, Bidding all the flowers good night. 36