Racine High School - Kipikawi Yearbook (Racine, WI)

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been with his father, the route that had been taken five years before. But night came on and he and his party were still in the desert. Alan was for keeping on, but the guide told him that the Arab would have gone long before. Therefore, he was finally content to spend a night of rest, for he really was tired. He did not realize how tired until he spread his coat on the hot sand and lay down. Xlyriads of stars twinkled in the sky, and a low wind moaned. He could hear the heavy breathing of his tired companions. Iiventually he slept, not the sleep of youth, but that of exhaustion. lvhen at last he awoke, he felt dizzy and weak. A musty smell seemed to choke him. He found that he was in a small tent, lying on a silken rug. The Hap was raised and a tall Arab who Alan could tell was one of the wandering tribe came in. He looked at Alan and, finding him awake, grunted. Then he went out. Alan could hear voices outside but he was too weak to care. In a few moments, another Arab came in with a tray. He gave Alan a little water and a very small amount of food. Alan did not realize that he had been put to sleep with what the natives call the sleeping magic, that he had been kidnapped from the camp in the desert, and that he was weak because he had not tasted food for almost three days. Now he murmured to himself, Pretty stingy with their grubl After he had eaten, he felt stronger. He arose from his couch and said to the Arab, Where am I, anyway? The Arab muttered something about a White Sphinx from which answer Alan could make nothing, He raised the flap and looked out. The Arab looked at him for a minute but did not speak again. Alan went out. The place seemed to Alan to be a fruit- ful oasis. Palms, fig trees, date palms, and other tropical trees were abundant. hfany small, goat-hair httts were scattered about. To one side was a large well at which two natives were drawing water. In the center stood a great white tent, on the fiap of which were many curious figures embroidered in gold. Perhaps the chief of the tribe lives there,,' Alan said to himself. Then having satisfied his curiosity he turned and sauntered back toward his own quarters. As he walked, the natives pointed to him and muttered something about the great white visitorf, He had but reached his tent, when the man who had brought him food came running up to him. Bowing low the Arab murmured, f'Oh, master, the high priestess sends for you. Alan had no idea where to go but the Arab led the way to the white tent, then bowed to the ground and hurried off. Alan raised the fiap and walked in. In the center of the large pavilion stood a pure white figure of solid ivory. Two large sapphires formed its glittering eyes. Its claws were of shining gold. It was the Great VVhite Sphinx! Alan was struck dumb by the beauty and grandeur of it. He did not notice a white-robed figure stretched on a couch. But now, the figure, rising, greeted him, 'iOh, son of the Great VVhite Visitor, wel- come. Sitf, Alan started. Did she mean that his father had once visited this place? He sat down upon the richly decorated couch to which she pointed. Her veil was now thrown back, and never in his life had Alan seen a face so beautiful. She, too, wore ornaments such as only the Orient can furnish. Again she addressed him, '4Oh, white man, the Fearless, I heard of your glory, and I knew you were the son of the Great Wihite Visitor. hlanysuns ago he came to me, and fell at the entrance of this tent. I cared for him with my own hands, because I loved him. But he would not stay. He must hasten back to some great king and give him a scrap

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An old forlorn cottage nestled among the trees is completely covered with ivy vines, creeping in and out the latticed windows and across the old door. The whole place looks like a bower made for the gods, and one would commit a sacri- lege if he tore the vines rudely away from their places so that he could enter. At sunset there is a hush as twilight comes on. The robin and thrush sing to their mates onthe nests. The trees are silhouetted against the pale sky. Soon everything is left in darkness and sinks to sleep. jot: R1ClI1'I'I1i, '23. 1115112 'Eliite giibinx Alan Hempstead leaned back in his chair, propped his feet up on the desk, and lit. a fresh cigar. glove, Ifm glad thatls overln he said. Just then, the butler brought in a card which read, James P. Stewart. Alan sprang to his feet and cried, 'fShow him ing he's just in time.'l In a few minutes, james P. Stewart, private lawyer of the Hempstead family, came in. Alan slapped him briskly on the shoulder, saying, Hello, old manl I've written all these letters explaining my absence, and I leave to- morrow. Just think, leave tomorrow to go deep into the great Arabian desertf, James Stewart's face grew grave as he replied, Alan, I've tried to make you give up this unthinkable thing. Can't, you see you're just throwing your life away? Your father did, and what did he gain? Nothing! Oh, can't you see the folly of it all? It was quite a surprise to Alan to see the usually calm Mr. Stewart give way to emotion of this kind. Hhlamie, I want to do itl Something tells me that I shall succeed! he answered passionately. Then he added in a calmer tone, 'GI sail tomorrow. l've made all the necessary preparations. You need not worry. A There was nothing for lfr. Stewart to dog therefore, asking Alan to dine with him at the Royal Hotel that evening, he took his leave. Alan Hempstead was the son of the dis- tinguished Alan Hempstead, Sr. All the world knew that Alan, Sr. had taken a trip five years before, and had never come back. Unly the secret service and the king knew that he had gone far into the Arabian desert to find an important document which had been stolen. Only the king and the secret service knew that the dead body of Alan Hempstead had been found on the steps of the Itlnglish consulate in Arabia. The loss of the document had been successfully kept a secret until now, but the time was coming when that loss would become public. Alan, as the son of Hempstead, had been told the story. He made up his mind that he would hnish his fat,her's work. That night, Alan met lXfIr. Stewart at the Royal and dined with him. Both tried to appear cheerful but hlr. Stewart made a miserable failure of it. Pk 34 Tl: df FF The hot, merciless sun shone down upon a little party of men, struggling along in the sand. One, apparently a white man from his accent, but so browned by the sun that his color could not be proved, said, 'tlf we can only reach it before nightfallll' Another replied in the language of the Arabs, Yes, master, but it's far off, and the sun is hotf' The white man, not to be daunted, kept on. lt is strange how the magic silence of the desert affects men. The man who strode along in the broiling hot sun could not be Alan, carefree Alan Hempstead! For eight long months, he had kept up his diligent search for the lost document, and thus had earned the name the Fear-V lessf' So it was he who wished to reach the village before nightfall, in order to learn from a wandering Arab, who had

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of paper. Again and again I besought him to remain. I used all my charms. But, no. Therefore I killed him and sent him by my assistants to a far city. But I kept the paper. So-I' She went to the Sphinx and spoke. Oh, mighty one, shall I give to the man whose father I loved, the paper he left here? For a moment, the air was Charged, then the eye of the Sphinx dropped outl The priestess put her hand into a hole which seemed to go far back into the head of the Sphinx, and drew out a paper. Re- pla:ing the eye, she turned to him with, To you, son of the Great Wvhite Visitor, I give this paper for which your father gave his life. Take it, and golf' Alan, overcome by his emotions,eould not speak for a moment. Then he re- plied, 'cPriestess, thank you. I can say no moref' He grasped her hand a moment and went out into the night, wondering. She had murdered the one. Vlvhat had led her to be kind to him? Dk Pk if Pk bk The great court of the king was brilliantly lighted. On each side of the throne stood throngs of curious eourtiers. Conversation was going on in low under- tones: Vlihen will he eome?,' 4'How does he look? Suddenly, down the Court, came Alan Hempstead, hero of the Arabian mission. Tall, handsome Alan, yes, the same Alan who had slept' under a canopy of blue sky in the Arabian desert. He stopped and knelt before the throne. The king arose. Alan Hempstead, I wish to knight 'ou for attem vttn and suceeedinf in a . . . it great mission which meant so mueh to your king and country. Rise, Sir Alan, and receive the thanks of vour kin f and an ' T? country! RUTH MANTELL, 'Z3. A Qlutumn S ring oes blithel f vast us' x l . 7 Summer's voice is gay, Autumn touches all our hearts To gladness on its way. Vkhenever Autumn burns the world To red and golden brown There is a little ghost comes In a quiet gown. And says, Do you remember?I' And. Can you quite forget IYhen it is November And the sun is set?'7 ISLSIE I'IAYIiK, '2I. Ghz Qllummg uf Sprung Tum COMING or SPRING Spring has come with all its glory, And I love to tell the story Of the spring. When the snow has gone away, And it rains most every day, Then it's spring. When the trees begin to bud, And we slip-slop in the mud, Then it's spring. Then the robinis song we hear, 'Tis the best time of the year, In the spring. Then the ltlaster hat we greet On the maiden shy and sweet, In the spring. And the silken hosels displayed. Other seasons we'd not trade For the spring. Then the Kiay flowers and the grass, And the violets as we pass In the spring, AII do whisper, 'lCIod is love, Ijarth and sea and sky above, In the spring. IJORIS Dixon, '23,