Providence Technical High School - Review Yearbook (Providence, RI)

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08 THE TECH REVIEW 1930 Out of the Storm By Kenneth L. Godfrey, '30 On a December afternoon a skating race was in full progress on a small frozen lake, situated far up in Maine, near the Cana- dian border. A short distance away was a winter camp, which during the Christmas vacation was being patronized by a large number of college students, groups of which now lined the shore of the lake, laughing, shouting, and urging on their favorites. On the lake six bodies, swayed, six bodies skimmed through the intense cold, each with his eye on the finish mark, a scant fifty yards away. In this particuar race none of the weaker (?) sex were participating. Suddenly one of the six racers accelerated his speed, his stride lengthened, and he sped across the line ten feet in advance of his nearest rival. No outburst of cheering accompanied the finish; the conversation of several boys and girls on the shore might have enlightened the uninitiated. Oh, Bob’s won again! said a girl named Roberta Mead, stamping her foot. Joe Summers spoke. “ I he trouble with Bob, he said, is that he knows he’s good. Bob’s a good scout and a likeable sort of fellow, and if we could cure him of his conceit in some way. . . . “I wonder,” mused Roberta. Suddenly she emerged from her reverie. Listen! I know just the thing! There’s a girl coming here tomorrow who’s. . . .’’ 1 heir voices sank to an indistinct mur- mur, which lapsed into a discreet silence as Bob Rogers, the topic of their conversa- tion approached. I all, dark, good looking and debonair, he might, even as Joe had said, have been extremely popular but for his conceit. Hi! gang, he greeted them. Taking a girl, Ruth Manning, by the arm, he walked off. See you later, he grinned. When out of sight of the group, Ruth halted. “Bob, she began earnestly, ii »» you— Yes,” he interrupted, “I’m good and I know it. Haven’t we had this out be- fore? Ruth sighed. She knew from experience the results of an argument with Bob. They disappeared among the trees. I'he next afternoon Ruth, accompanied by another girl, met Bob. “Meet Barbara Jensen,” she said. Bob bowed. He found himself comparing Bar- bara with Ruth. She was pretty, he admit- ted, but side of Ruth. . . .Aloud he asked, Skate?” “Somewhat.” Ruth interrupted. “Take her on the ice. Bob, and see, she laughed gaily, but the troubled look in her eyes belied the laugh. And so ten minutes later found Bob on the ice with Barbara. A large crowd had assembled but Bob did not seem suspicious. After skating for some time he said to the girl, “I’ll give you fifty yards handicap and race you once around the lake.” All right, agreed the girl, but no handicap. Bob grinned silently. He’d start off slowly and then. . . . He never liked to think of the rest. Bar- bara reached the finish line ten yards ahead of Bob, who never stopped when he crossed it, but continued on up the lake. Far up it he stopped and removed his skates. Cries, cheers, and jeers drifted up to him. He burned with rage and mortification. To be beaten by a girl! He walked slowly back to camp, anger and disappointment searing him as with a red hot iron. Nearing camp

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1930 THE TECH REVIEW 07 over the crawling line they discharged bombs and flew up to safety again. After several such operations, a smouldering heap was all that was left of the train. Then the two boys headed for home. I he double victory held no thrill for them now. It was a sorrowful pair that climbed out of their planes at the field. They walked with bowed heads to the house. Yvonne, seeing only two familiarly- marked planes on the line, ran into the house and saw two grief-stricken lads at a table. She went over to them and sat down. Where ees Georgiee?” she asked, look- ing from one to the other. He—he was— down!” replied Bob, huskily. He ees not dead? Oh, no! Yvonne cried, yet knowing full well what the an- swer would be. A nod answered her. Bob arose and strode into his room where he threw himself on the bed and cried bitterly. How he cursed those Huns! After a while he got up, washed his face and stepped out into the room again. Across the room was Yvonne and Jean in each other’s arms. Jean was kissing her ten- derly. Bob stepped back into the room and softly closed the door. Would this streak of bad luck never stop? First, it was George, and now it was Yvonne. God, how he loved her. Then he stood up. He’d be a man and not a cad! He had lost in the battle of love and now he would con- gratulate the winner. He found it very hard, however, to shake Jean’s hand and smile at the beautiful girl. Next morning. Bob was awakened by a commotion in the big room. The place was bristling with excitement! Upon inquiry Bob learned that a German Ace had been raising havoc with the American Overland Transports. Truckload after truckload of Doughboys had been blown to bits by this fiend of the sky! No one had been success- ful enough to stop him. It would have to be a fast, clever, dare-devil to down him. Bob’s division had been called upon to furnish a man to try his luck w-ith the Ace; and Jean volunteered! Bob found him packing up and trying to quiet Yvonne, who would not listen to his going. Bob also pleaded but to no avail. That night Bob sat in his room thinking. Why should he try to keep Jean from going after this fiend? Hadn’t he volunteered to go on this dangerous mission? If Jean never returned, and there was little hope for his return, Yvonne would be his. Why should he save the Frenchman? Later in the evening a grin overspread his face as he went over the plans for the affair he was about to put through. Pres- ently he looked at his watch, yawned and got into bed where he fell into a troubled sleep. Just before dawn, an aviator walked through the midst and fog of the early morning to a waiting plane that was warm- ing up. He started early so as to avoid the heart-breaking parting from his fellow officers. He climbed into the cockpit, snapped out a muffled Contact to the waiting mechanic, and roared across the field just as the men ran out of the house. I hree hours later the men of the Divis- ion were listening to a thrilling piece of news. The German Ace had been downed by the Allied flyer after a terrific battle! I he flyer had lost his life in the conflict, though. The Division Commander just finished the message when a great banging came from Bob’s room. The men opened the door and there on the bed, tied hand and foot and gagged, laid the struggling Jean!

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1930 TUE TECH REVIEW 09 he idly picked up a scrap of paper lying on the ground. He absently started to read it, suddenly started, and bent intently over it. For he read: Dear Barbara: Knowing that you are the girls’ Eastern skating champion I think you can do me a favor. Come over to my cabin at ten A.M. R.M. So it had been Ruth Manning who had disgraced him! And to think that once he had even dreamed of marrying her. Grit- ting his teeth he arrived at his cabin and entered, slamming the door. Almost immediately it reopened. Ruth entered. “Oh, Bob,” she exclaimed, “I’m so sorry.’ “Really,” he gritted, and stalking past her left the cabin. Ruth started after him, then stopped, biting her lip bitterly. A sob caught in her throat. She turned and walked slowly away. The next morning dawned cold and bit- ter. A bleak wind swept down from the north, driving the snow before it. At ten o’clock it stopped, but the ensuing silence was more ominous than the storm. At elev- en it broke out in all its fury. Snow whirled down from the low-hanging leaden clouds. 1 he wind howled and rushed and shrieked through the swaying trees. Darkness came at three but brought no cessation of the storm. Bob had sat all day in his cabin, re- flecting bitterly. At five o’clock Joe Sum- mers burst in. “Bob!” he exclaimed, “Ruth Manning went out for a walk through the woods this morning at ten and hasn’t returned!” “Well, what of it,” snapped Bob. “Why tell me, after what she did to me before everybody. Oh, I know,” he con- tinued, checking Joe, “ I found this note with her initials.” He passed the note to Joe. Joe read it silently. Then he turned on Bob, his eyes ablaze. “You cad,” he ground out, “You big-headed, chicken-liv- ered, contemptible cad. Why, that note was written by Roberta Mead in an at- tempt to cure your conceit, and Ruth Man- ning was the only one who opposed the plan.” Bob suddenly turned gray. He seized Joe by the shoulder. Joe,” he said hoarse- ly, “you wouldn’t kid me?” “Of course not,” replied Joe coldly. “Hey—where are you going? Man alive! It’s death to go out there! Even the guides who know this place like a book don’t dare! You—” But Bob had gone. Through the woods he reeled and stag- gered, buffeted by the wind and blinded by the driving snow. What a cur he’d been! Minutes lengthened into hours, hours seemed years. He grew unconscious of time, knew only that he must press on, on, on, he must find Ruth. At intervals he shouted her name but the shrieking wind whipped the words away and carried them down its empty alleyways. Guided by Providence, Kismet, Fate, what you will, Bob found Ruth. On the sheltered side of a giant pine she lay, half frozen. But for the shelter of the tree she must have perished. Bob removed his out- er coat and somehow put it on her. Then, carrying her on his shoulders, he started off. He knew not in what direction camp lay, knew only that it was to seal their doom to remain still in one place. Through the night came the swish of falling snow. Trusting in the fortune that had so far at- tended him, he pressed forward, for- ward. . . . In the large dining hall all the members of the camp were gathered. No one spoke. Each was busy with his own thoughts. I he only sound was that of the wind, howl- ing around the corners of the building.