Racine High School - Kipikawi Yearbook (Racine, WI)

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HI I ii KD Nothing else matteredg he must have a perfect notebook. Day after day he went to school, sublimely flunking every- thing but geometry, and sublimely en- during the persecution of those who saw fit to interfere. The faculty argued, the principal pleaded, but all to no avail. William had made up his mind. Came the end of the semester and the notebook was finished. Surely the result of his labors was pleasing. William had a notebook which would have done credit to the greatest living mathema- tician. The fourth period on the last day, fcursed be the memoryl the geom- etry teacher was speaking. These were her words: 'lowing to some complications which have arisen lately, I find it necessary to dispense with the notebooks, and base your grades on entirely different lines. William never recovered. WILMER DAVIS, '22. ilauhhugeugm I hated Ekgardt with a hatred made intense by fear. I feared him with a fear akin to madness. Even as I sat beside him on his death-bed, I quavered before his eye. My fear was augmented by the gloomy appearance of the room. The faint light admitted by the one grimy window cast fitful. half-defined shadows about the nooks and corners, and to my distorted fancy these shadows seemed to be demons waiting for the soul of the dying man. At Ekgardt's feet lay a huge black cat which he called Hiddi- geigei, a cat with yellow malevolent eyes. This cat exerted a strange influence over me. I feared it as I feared Ekgardt. As I sat awaiting the end, I pondered upon the strangeness of it all. This beast the was no manj had terrihed all Europe with his heinous crimes. Now he lay here in an obscure garret, suffer- ing the agonies of hell. He, who had laughed at deathl Suddenly he sat upright and stared at me with sunken eyes. He grasped for my throat with long bony hands, then fell back, dead. With a scream of terror I rushed from the room. Night had fallen4a starless, black night. I ran headlong through the sleeping city, into the forest. I would disappear, never to be seen again. I would be free, free at last! Meanwhile I struggled through the dense undergrowth of the forest. In the intense darkness I could see nothing. In my feverish haste I crashed into trees, stumbled over logs, scratching and cut- ting myselfuntil I was bruised and sore. I struggled on. Nothing, I assured my- self, could stand between me and my freedom. Never again would I be forced to crimes that made my soul sick. I would be free from Ekgardt's power for- ever. Slowly there came upon me a certain uneasiness. I had the premonition that someone was following me. I stopped. All was silent. I could see nothing, yet I felt someone behind me. I continued my way, trying to shake off the terror that seized my heart. I seemed to hear footsteps on all sides. Weird shapes loomed up beside me. I broke into a run. Stumbling, staggering, I groped my way on through the darkness. I fell, my head striking a rock, and I lay there, I do not know how long. When I looked up, I was peering into the shining orbs of some animal. Ekgardtis Hiddigeigei sat a few feet away, purring contentedly. With a sudden burst of anger I rushed at the cat, intending to kill him. He eluded my grasp and disappeared. Trying to dismiss the event from my mind, I pushed on. To my horror, a few feet ahead of me I again saw the flaming eyes of the great beast. I felt about on the ground until I found a stout club and thus armed, I made for him. I stopped. He was slowly advancingl His eyes grew larger and more yellow. My God, would he never stop coming? I stood spellbound. Slowly he came nearer, nearer. I was paralyzed. Oh, why could I not rid myself of this hellish monster? A wave of intense passion surged over me. I dashed at the creature. I would crush him, damn him, I would beat out

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KD HI I ii we saw the heights of the city loom up before us. Below them is Lower Quebec in which the original French houses still stand. Fort Frontenac crowns the heights and its guns cover the river. We visited the town and took in the notable sights. We passed thru Chateau Fron- tenac, formerly the home of the Cana- dian Parliament-now a hotel. We visited St. Annes, the great healing church which is a few miles out in the country, and to which over a thousand pilgrims go daily. Taking a car, we journeyed to Nlontgomery Fall, known for its great height, to the Plains of Abraham, and to the spots where Wolf and Mcmntcalm fell. Quebec is similar to Montreal in the fact that it is very foreign. Little English is spoken and less is written. The streets are narrow and dirty, and the cars would make our Birneys feel like Pullmans. Returning to our ship, we found that the tide was out, and we had to descend on a chain ladder down the damp, soggy side of the pier to get aboard. Leaving Quebec and its beauty be- hind us, we entered the Gulf of St. Lawrence, and our next stop was Cape Breton Island in the Atlantic Ocean. CHESTER ANDERSON, '2l. mhz aantehnnk Bitterness had taken possession of the soul of William Rutherford Todd. For him the sunshine was no longer beauti- ful. His future was black and dreary. Faith? He had none. Lost to him for- ever was the simple trustfulness of a happy student. In a word, William Rutherford Todd had been disallusioned. And who had done this dastardly deed? Hark, and I will tell the tale. Long ago in September, into our beautiful high school, into an atmosphere of quietness and calm, had entered softly and stealthily, that which forever de- stroyed peace and happiness, namely, the system of weighted credits. Its en- trance banished the serenity of the old life, and caused bustle and hustle, com- petition and strife to be rampant in a once placid school world. Among those who suffered was William Rutherford Todd. No longer could he drift and be happy. He must struggle, and strive, and live in ceaseless turmoil. And William did struggle, and he did strive until he ranked with those whose grades were G, and accordingly received five hours. Here William should have stopped, and my story should have stopped. But no, the plot thickens. William had an ambition. Ah yesl It was sad and heartbreaking, and I will pause, gentle readers, while you wipe the tears from your eyes and while you pity him as you pity all who have ambition. Butfand here rejoice-William's am- bition was not a common ordinary one, but one worthy of a nobler cause. He made a vow that in at least one subject he would receive six and one-half hours. To many, such an ambition would seem impossible of fulfillment, but to the dauntless soul of William Rutherford Todd, it seemed plausible. Be it known that geometry was the favored subject, not because geometry was easy for William-no, he scorned the base insin- uationfbut because he loved his geom- etry teacher. Now, indeed, life began in earnest for William. Long and tedious were the hours he spent in absorbing angles and circles. He worked desper- ately, and soon geometry ruled him, and became his passion. Did he go out at night, did he loiter in the hall, the voice of geometry called him back to endless hours of work. Now William did not labor so unceasingly on all gemoetry. He was too exclusive for that, but he based his hopes on his geometry notebook.

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HIP IQ his brains. lVly club descended with a thud. Ile dodged the blow. Nladdened, blind with ungoverable rage, I pitched forward after him. Upon my senses there came the realization that dawn was approaching. I greeted the light with joy. Now I would kill the cat and pursue my way in peace. I drew up short, conscious that I was in the city again. The cat had lured me back toflVIy God! Could it be true? It was the very spot on which I had murdered old Raoul a week before. This cat was no animal, he was the devil him- self. I had been chasing the devil. I laughed. It was the laugh of the insane. A guard slowly advanced up the street upon his rounds. I passed him. With sudden decision I wheeled about and said, Take me to the jail, I am Duval. A few yards up the street, a huge black cat slunk up a dark alley and dis- appeared. COLVILLE OWEN, '22. bzgtnurfs Return On a branch of the Columbia River, which the Indians called the Kootenai, lay the little Indian village of Wasula. Very peaceful it looked as it basked in the sunshine, the Rocky Mountains looming up in the distance with the eternal snows covering their lofty tops, and the little rivulets tumbling down over the rocks. Here in his tepee squatted Akkomi, chief of the Kootenais, smoking his pipe and meditating profoundly. In the woods, the Squaw of Akkomi gathered wood, for the evenings of September were rather chilly, and in a clearing of the woodlands, Segwun, the little seven year old chief-to-be, raced and leaped with the young Kootenais. Stretching off to the west, lay the large fields of Indian maize, gleaming in the last rays of the summer sun. Soon came the twilight, and the earli- est stars began to prick their way through the blue canopy. Gradually, darkness fell on the little fishing village of the Indians. One big tire burned out- side the lodges, and over it a big kettle hung, while the steam drifted up and away over the heads of the squaws and the children, who, wrapped in their colored blankets, gathered there. In the wigwam of the chief, a slight fire had been built, just big enough to drive away the dampness of the river's edge. Over this Leflore, the Squaw of Akkomi bent, raking the dry sticks, until the flames started up and outlined the form of the chief who was stretched out on a pile of skins and blankets. Calling to Black Bow, one of the braves who lounged around the opening of the wigwam, Akkomi bade him seat himself before the fire. Then from his blankets he said, Black Bow, at the dawn of tomorrow, the braves of Wasula will sail with me up the Kootenai to the broad Columbia, and there, until three suns have set, we shall hunt. Go now to the braves and bid them be prepared. Silently Black Bow glided out of the fire-light. Segwun, who had been quietly listening to the conversation, said, Oh father, chief of the Keetenais, you are now going on a long hunt. Father, take me with you. I have shot the black bow and arrow in the forest straighter and truer than any other of my age. Slowly Akkomi puffed wreaths of smoke. Finally he answered, Well, my son, if you wish it, you may go with me to hunt and to test your shooting. When the sun first peeped over the wooded hills, Akkomi, with his son beside him, and with the bravesofWasula following, shot his birch canoe down the river. For three days they were gone. Returning the fourth day they brought sad news. Segwun, so Akkomi told his squaw, had wandered far into the hidden depths of the forest, and though the Indians had searched for him far, the lad was not to be found. Thus they had returned, nor could they say whether he had departed to the Happy Hunting Grounds or not. Years passed. Akkomi and Leflore had become old and bent. The people of the