Rangeley High School - Tattler Yearbook (Rangeley, ME)

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THE TATTLER 13 story of George Warring's murder, and of his confession, saying that it had been com- mitted because of jealousy. It was a long story and very cruel, but he was hardly listening, he was so overcome with h2LDDi' ness. Was Carl Newman in jail? No, he had committed suicide a short time after confessing. Looking at the girl he suddenly realized that she reminded him of someone. Ah, he had itg His lost daughter, who many years ago he has sent bitterly out of the home be- cause she had married a man far beneath her rank. Could it be possible that this was her child? He had seen in the papers about the child's birth. ' Do you know anything about your par- ents? he suddenly asked. Bitterly she replied, Just the usual story of a rich and handsome girl marrying a man whom she dearly loved. Her father, angry to think that his only child should marry beneath her rank, disinheriting her. The girl growing old before her time and dying in poverty, her husband dying from grief. Suddenly she pointed an accusing finger at him and said, You were the cause of all my poor mother's grief and unhappi- ness. The old man bowed his head and mutter- ed something unintelligible. The girl, knowing how much he had suf- fered, spoke softly, saying, Mother told me to go to you because she knew that you would be sorry after she had gone. I-Ie took her gently into his arms and said, Please let God make me worthy of her trust, my Dorothy. M. J. S. '27 .lol A RACE FOR LIFE Life? What was life to him, why he had his own to look out for? With contemptuous, blazing, hate-filled eyes, he looked down on a huddled heap of senseless humanity. He looked at the smoke blackened sky, becoming' yet blacker by the nearncss of the consuming flames that were creeping closer, ever closer, sweeping on toward farther and better con- quests. Again he looked at that helpless figure. Both he, Greenman, and that man, Cole his enemy, had been assigned to the same fire station, but when they had S9611 that awful omen of destruction, they had been obliged to ilee for their lives. Now knocked senseless by a bad fall, Cole lay unconscious of all. A thought flashed through Greenman's mind. It might have been he instead of Cole lying there! Good God! What a death! Two miles! Could he make it? Not hesitating, he threw Cole across his shoulders and hurried on. Great beads of sweat broke out on his brow. He panted-he swore--sometimes he sank down helpless, only to struggle up and on again. Oh God! Would he ever get there? The fire seemed to claim all. His ieet moved like lead-but still he kept going. Again he sank, this time unmovable. But he was safe. His destination was reached where helping hands relieved him. A A. R. J. '27 .l-0.1-. SARCHADON'S RACE Alice Richmond was the daughter of George Richmond, the owner of Bar Six ranch. Her father was widely known for his love for his world famous horses, and his love for his daughter. Old Man Rich- mond had reason to be proud of his daugh- ter, for she was the possessor of a wild beauty that was fascinating. She had beautiful, long, golden hair, dark, lustrous brown eyes, a round, roguish face, and a beautiful complexion. Alice was said to be the best woman rider in Texas. It was the day of the race-the great day set apart by her father, long ago, to race all of their horses against any others who wished to compete with them. Old Man Richmond had invited the Indian Chiefs and their braves to enter their horses and mustangs in the race. The day was cool- just right for a race. Alice was going to ride Sarchadon, the fastest horse in Texas. Her only misgiving was that someone would, at the last minute, enter a horse that was faster than her own. Salone Buck had a grudge against her father because of a cattle deal that had occured long ago. H0 had never lost an opportunity to pay him back, and he had kept Alice in fear for her father's life. She had heard that Buck was entering some fast horses, and that he was

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V 4 12 THE T old and ineffective, and had stopped at 9:55. Whether the strain of expecting to be blown up any instant after 10 o'clock unbalanced his mind, or whether he was insane and made the bomb to accomplish his object, I don't know, but either way he got what was coming to him. This last attack was caus- ed by his seeing your suitcase while he was sweeping this morning. It is probably like the one he used. One of the doctors at the asylum ap- proached, and the guard moved off about his duties, which included collecting strange and unusual stories that he loved to tell to whoever would listen. A. L. L. '26 . 0.-l- TH E OUTCAST He was an outcast, a lonely old man with ragged, dirty clothes, shoes whose taps were so thin that every step he took on the hard road resulted in agony. His face was that of a man who had once enjoyed wealth and all the pleasures of life. His shoulders were now stooped, and his face was grey and haggard, but it was still noticeable that he had been very handsome. He was walking toward a large, bare- looking house which had a. sign on the front side- Rooms For Rent. He put his hand into his pocket and slowly drew forth a few dirty coins clutched in his fingers. He looked at them and laughed scornfully --he who handled millions. Why not? He was so tired, so hungry, so miserable. He made his way up to the front door and rang the hell. After a short pause, he was admitted by a young and very beautiful girl, very shabbily dressed. She smiled at him-the first smile that had been cast his way for many months. He asked for a room, and after mounting a flight of stairs, he was shown into a large, hare room. Ly- ing down on the bed, he was soon fast asleep. When he awoke the day was nearly gone. He muttered to himself that he must go on, somewhere-anywhere to get away from that horrible thing that was chasing him. Why had he permitted himself to be fooled? -to be led into that terrible plot from which there was no escape? ATTLER He slowly got up from the bed, leeling more rested in body, but not in mind, and made his way toward the door. He remem- bered that he had seen a window in the hall, and opening the door, he went to it. He looked out, and there in the street, coming directly toward the house, was his shadow, his follower, who had dogged his steps for months. Was there no escape? The door bell rang loudly and he listened breathlessly. He heard a light step in the hall and soon the door was opened. Has an old, dirty, ragged fool been here? a harsh voice demanded. The girl replied in a cold tone, No! no- body ever comes here. Why should they come to such an old, ramshackle house as this? This is just where he would come, the man replied. ' I am not in the habit of telling lies, re- torted the girl. The man must have believed her for he asked, Well, have you seen anyone of that description pass by here? She answered that she had seen no one pass by, and didn't care to. After a short time the piazza steps creaked and the out- cast knew that the man was gone. He walked down the stairs and met the young girl near the foot. Why, young lady, did you send that man away, and lie for my sake? With a tired smile she replied, Because you see, I happen to know who you are. The man paled and drew back, but she said, You have nothing to fear from ine, and somehow he knew that she spoke the truth. Then she knew that he was John Carver, the great banker-probably the greatest banker in England, who was wanted for a cruel murder of which he was entirely in nocent. She led him to the library and picked up a paper, about a week old. In big print its headlines held the following words: CARL NEWMAN CONFESSES TO THE MURDER OF GEORGE WARRING JOHN CARVER IS FREE He stared. Could he believe his eyes? He knew the first joy at that minute that he had felt for a long time. She then told the

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14 THE TATTLER making wild threats as to what he would do to her father and his horses. George Rich- mond had. laughed at these threats, and he looked at his daughter lovingly whenever she made known her fears. I surely wouldn't let you ride in the race, Sunny, if I didn't know what a rider you are, and then, too, you are so much lighter than the boys. But you be careful, Sunny, don't let the others get too close. But then, there's not much danger of that, he would laugh- ingly add. His fears for his daughter would sometimes overrule his fear of losing the race, but not for long, for he would remem- ber Sarchadon, strong, noble, but gentle. As Alice, garbed in her boyish riding suit, stood by Sarchadon's head betore the race, her father came to wish her good luck. Then ther trumpet sounded for the line-up. As Alice rode into line, she looked over the beautiful racers about her. She almost in- stantly noticed a great, black stallion that was making trouble near her. He was rear- ing and kicking at the horses about him. His rider seemed to have some difliculty in handling him. A wild stallion, Alice reflected. Then the gun was fired and there was a rush of galloping hoofs. Sarchadon took the lead, his great, power- ful strides carrying him a few rods ahead of the others. His muscles rippled under his glossy, grey skin, and his silver mane and tail glistened in the sunlight. His even hoof beats were like music to A1ice's ears, until she heard the wild, piercing scream of a horse close upon her. She turned and saw the black demon bearing down on her -his eyes wild and red, and foaming at the mouth. She knew that he was trying to run Sarchadon down-to kill him. Alice bent low over Sarchadon's neck, but he had already quickened his pace, for he had heard the challenge, and was answering it by running as he had never run before. The wind made the tears come to A1ice's eyes as she race along the home stretch She looked back again. The black horse was only three feet away. He was gaining! His lips curled back, his teeth gleamed white, his nostrils were iiery red, and his eyes were wild. As Alice looked, the horse reared and plunged at her. Sarchadon, responding to her touch, swerved to one side and thundered in over the finishing line just as the black horse leaped high into the air, and fell dead-killed by his mad exertions. A1ice's father caught Sarchadon's bridle, pulled him to a stop, and Alice fell sobbing into his arms. The thoroughly frightened, but unhurt, rider of the black horse was surrounded by several angry cowboys, who forced him to reveal the plot of Buck. The latter had planned to have his wild stallion kill Sar- cadon, and then win the race. But Alice's skillful riding, together with the swiftness of Sarchadon, and the timely death of the black horse, had foiled him. D. E. H. '27 lo, A MAGICAL HAIR TONIC In the town of Sundae lived an Irish bar- ber, Pat Lofferty, who was known far and wide for the hair tonic which he used and sold. He had great faith! in this hair tonic, and never lost a chance to talk of it. He vertzized it in the papers as the best, and called it the Mystic Magic Hair Invigorator. Some people said he made it himself, while others believed he bought it of some city merchant. As we have no means to ascer- tain which was correct, we will leave it to our imagination. There also lived, in this town, a little hunch-backed cow boy, whose name was Snooks Heldon. He always found time, no matter how busy, to voice his opinions on whatever any of his fellow-citizens in- tended to do. Whether young or old, male or female, it was all the same. Yet every- one liked him: the Irish barber in particu- lar. One morning a huge, giant of a man, and a string of pack mules came down the street toward the livery stable. He was dressed in rough, but whole clothes, a pair of cow- hide boots, and a sombero. His hair was back, and hung to his shoulders. As he reached the stable, a well-known voice called, How are yer, Buck? Bucky Evans turned on his heel and confronted an apparently empty street. As he turned back to the stable, he heard a second call, and looking again, he espied the smiling