Quincy High School - Goldenrod Yearbook (Quincy, MA)

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The Golden-Rod 13 IV. The Deacon occupied the same place the next night and he was dressed up. Me wore his best suit, his tall black hat, his brown gloves, and his flaring green tie. In his hands was a big bunch of red carnations, so big that the Deacon could hardly see over them. He was to escort the girl to the sta- tion after the performance. When the curtain fell, the Deacon made his way to the stage entrance and waited patient- ly. After a few moments the girl came out but who was that with her? He was tall and wore a big fur coat, and the girl carried a large bunch of nodding American beauties. The Deacon stood stock still and watched them enter an automobile drawn up at the curb. The girl glanced around and saw the Deacon. “Oh, Jimmy!” she cried as she leaned toward the fur-coated man, “look at the rube!” The man laughed and slipping his arm a- bout the girl drew her close and the car slid out of sight around the corner. The Deacon said something, no matter what, Hung the flowers into the gutter, and, swing- ing around on his heel, walked home to his sermons and his garden. Doris Condon, T7. THE QUITTER. Albert Norris was in deep thought; he was thinking of what the doctor had just told him concerning his brother Bob. Bob had been sickly all his life but had grown worse lately and the doctor had now advised A1 to take him west, hoping that the change of climate would make him a new person. Their cousin Frank had a ranch in Arizona and A1 decided to take his brother there. While at school A1 had gone in for sports, but when he thought there was no chance of his getting on the first team he had quit. For this reason he had not made much of a star of himself. When they arrived in Arizona. Frank was glad to see them and made them acquainted with his cowboys. At first A1 was a general favorite but, as cowboys like the fellows who, if up against a hard proposition, stick to it till they conquer, he soon lost their respect and became nicknamed “The Quitter ” This was too much for A1 and he determined to make good. When the round-up came and A1 asked Jake, the foreman, if he might go with him, the latter replied that he wanted only people who could work, not quitters. Frank, how- ever, took Al’s part and arranged for him to go with the outfit .He made many blunders, though he tried his best, and was frequently reprimanded by Jake. One night about twelve o’clock the cook’s helper rushed into the bunk house, yelling that some one had stolen all their horses from the corral. He had thought from the noise that the coyotes were bothering the horsesand had gone out only to find every horse gone. Jakes was furious and immediately dis- patched men back to the ranch to get a posse. In this necessary loss of time A1 saw his chance to make good. He took some water and food and set out at once on the trail made by the horses. In the moonlight the track showed clearly. He ran and walked at intervals all night, but toward morning lay down to rest. As yet he had not been missed from the camp. He slept till noon; then took something to eat and started on again. About four o’clock he heard a horse ap- proaching in the distance. He hid behind some bushes but did not have long to wait, for soon a familiar big bay horse with a vicious looking individual on his back appeared. A1 ordered the rider to put up his hands and dismount; the man, greatly surprised, obeyed in silence. Then A1 took the roj e

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12 The Golden-Rod key till it squeaked in the lock. “Up stairs quick!’ I says to your grandma. We crept up the back stairs and got under the bed clothes. The bed began to heave, and slowly a lion crawled forth from under it, but sud- denly his skin got caught in the slats. He wriggled a moment, then there was a wild jump and your pa dashed for the door, leav- ing my old lion skin flattened out on the floor. But we caught him an’—my palm aches to this day from the hidin’ I gave him.” The rumble of the vehicles and the blare of the silver trumpets billowed down from Main Street. “Is your grandma asleep?” asked Grandpa, reaching for his cane. “I reckon I’m an old fool enough to go down to the circus lot with you, Willum.” Marion Gaudf i, T7. THE DEACON’S GIRL. When Deacon Jones’ wife died—due to a train wreck and hailed by the Deacon with no show of sorrow—he swore that he would never look at another woman. His spinster sister came to look after the house and the Deacon tended strictly to the garden and his Sunday sermons. One day he was on his way home from the village when he passed a fence which was completely covered with highly colored posters. They were advertisements of a cabaret show to be given in the village theatre the following three nights. “Such things in this respectable town should be abolished!” stormed the Deacon, as he began to rip the terrible things from the fence. But the pictures were attractive and the Deacon stopped to look at them. “Some gals!” he murmured as his eyes fell upon a group of ballet girls. Their costumes were scant, very much so to the uninitiated eyes of the Deacon, who stared open-mouthed. “Wonder what people would say if I went?” he murmured to himself as he shuffled off down the road, a piece of pink poster peeking from his pocket. II. The first night of the show found the Deacon in a front seat, his hat balanced on his knees and his eyes glued to the fancy painted curtain. At last it rolled hoarsely up- ward and the Deacon nearly swallowed his false teeth, for the posters had not done half justice. A dozen girls, dressed in pieces of pink silk and shoulder straps, came forward, all smiles and rosy checks, and began to sing and dance. The Deacon stared, his eyes nearly popping from their sockets. The girl on the right hand end — she was a pretty girl, too—caught his eye and held it the whole evening. The Deacon walked on air all the way home, his head full of pink tights and the red lips and cheeks of the girl on the right hand end. When he flung open his door, he greeted his sister with a smile and went up- stairs to bed, whistling, with the cat clasped tightly under his left arm. III. The next night found the Deacon in the same seat, a smile of contentment on his face and a red carnation ablaze in his button-hole. When the curtain went down on the last act, the Deacon, with sure aim, tossed the car- nation to the feet of the girl on the right hand end. She picked it up and, turning, smiled most bewitchingly at the Deacon and threw him a kiss. The Deacon went home all smiles and laughter but his joyousness soon died, for his sister met him on the door step. “Hiram Jones! where have you been? To the club?” The Deacon coughed out a “Yes!” and said that they had had a very unusual meet- ing. Then he escaped to bed.

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14 The Golden - Rod from the saddle and bound him, hand and foot. Leaving the man on the ground. A1 mounted the horse and forced him ahead at a rapid rate, for night was coming on. Just as he came over a knoll, he saw, in the dusk, smoke rising from a house in the woods. Dismounting, he advanced upon the place cautiously and soon discovered that it was the place he was seeking. A sudden peal of boisterous laughter from the cabin told him that the men were drunk. After letting down the bars of the improvised corral, he made hi? way to the other side of it and threw stones at the horses in order to start them through the open gate. This noise brought the men to the door. A1 took careful aim, fired, and as luck would have it, hit one man, and angered the others. This additional noise thoroughly frightened the horses and they broke for the open prairie in a perfect stampede. A1 followed in the darkness, recovered his own animal, and started to round up the others. By morning, just as he had suc- ceeded fairly well, he met the posse com- ing after the thieves. While A1 was still a good way off, he heard a cowboy remark. “Here comes ‘The Quitter’ with our horses. I wonder—But he said no more, for he saw Jake’s face and stopped. That ex- pression was not often seen on the fore- man’s face. “He ain’t no quitter,” Jake announced, “and the next man who calls him that will get the contents of my gun to pick out of his hide.” Russell Sears, ’17. HIS LAST CHANCE. The day for the big meet of the year had arrived and with it came John King’s last chance to win his letter, for on the next day he was to graduate. As he put on his track suit, he recalled how he had come to Eaton College, three years before, a weak, puny freshman, and how he had determined to make his letter at any price. Here was his last chance. His event was the three-mile run, the last contest of the day. The dashes, the shot-put, the jumps, the pole-vault, the half-mile, and the mile went off, and then the three-mile race was called. The Eatonites were frantic, for the score was in favor of Benson University, 55-52, and this final race had to be won to win the meet. As .he runners lined up at the start, a deep roar resounded in the big stadium. Now, for the first time, John learned that Captain Williams, of Eaton, was not in the race, be- cause of a pulled tendon, and he saw Johnson the best distance-man in the state, lined up against him. Then the full meaning of the situation dawned upon him. lie was re- sponsible if the meet were lost, and he would receive the glory if it were won. The voice of his captain rang in his ears, encouraging, imploring, threatening. “On your marks!” ‘‘Get set!” Bang! The race was on. Johnson sprinted for the pole, and got it by a big margin. Now began the long, grinding run. King saw that his only chance of winning was to stay back until the last, letting the other runners keep Johnson at his best, and so he slowed down, dropping into sixth place. At this, groans arose from the cheering section, and shriek- ing voices urged him on. But John knew his business; he was using his head as well as his legs. At the end of the first mile, the run- ners were in two sections, King at the head of the second. At the beginning of the third mile, the race had narrowed down to four runners, King in last place. Now the real fight was on; now came the final test of training. Breathing heavily, John slipped up a place. Johnson, in the lead, looked back and smiled, thinking that King was nearly exhausted, and that the race was already won. Again King drew up a place,