Reading Memorial High School - Pioneer Yearbook (Reading, MA)

Page 16 text:

THE PIONEER »• mosquito in Buzzville. And to top it all off, he had a red and orange striped bow tied around his thorax, ft was so becoming to him. It just made me feel weak all over. But he didn’t even notice me. Well, right there and then I made up my mind that Miss Clementina Stinger had a job on her tarsi, and I vowed that before I finished with Willie Swat, I’d make him notice me. However, I suddenly realized that all the Willie Swats in Buzzville couldn’t take away the hungry ache in my abdomen. I flitted away from the green leaf and started forth to seek nourishment in the great world beyond. 1 was just in the midst of thinking hard as to what my supper would be when my antennae picked up the most won¬ derful odor. I flew in the direction of the smell, and as it grew stronger and stronger, I realized that a great treat was in store for me. I never realized, though, just how great it would be. The smell was coming from an enormous, moving creature called a human being. What a funny thing it was! I nearly split my bazal segment laughing at it. Still, it was ferocious looking. But I was brave, and besides, it smelled delicious. I cautiously lighted upon it. What a surprise I got! It was just like wading through a forest; I could hardly keep my balance. But a Stinger always gets her man! At last I struggled through the obstruction on the out¬ side of the human being and started on my supper. The reward I received more than repayed me. Did it taste good! It was so nice to plunge my beak into this crea¬ ture and draw forth a nice red oozy substance. I’d never tasted anything like it before. (Milk—ugh!) But do you know that selfish creature, instead of letting me have a nice supper, picked up part of himself and threw it at me. Whew! It was a good thing I saw it coming or I wouldn’t be here now. (Oh dear, I wish I weren’t!) That red substance tasted so good that I followed the creature in hopes of getting a bigger meal. That was my mistake! I’ll curse that human being as long as l live. (Only I’m afraid that won’t be long.) The strangest thing had happened—-the air had suddenly become very different. I began to get wor¬ ried and said to myself, “Human being or no human being, Clementina, you’re getting back to Buzzville fast. I was crazy to think it was that easy, though, for I flew awhile and then ran smack into a hard wall. I flew in all directions but I couldn’t escape. I was caught! That old human being had done this to me just because I was looking for a decent meal. Well, I showed him! I flew at him with all the vim and vigor of a true Stinger and dug my beak into him as hard as 1 could. But it didn ' t seem to do any good this time. He just ignored me as Willie Swat had done. He didn’t even try to fight back. Maybe he knew it wouldn’t do any good anyway. By this time I was all in from my attack, so I flew to an object and lit there in order to get rested up a bit. It wasn’t by any means as nice a resting place as the green leaf, this was hard and slip¬ pery. Then, too, there wasn’t any Willie Swat buzzing around that I could make eyes at. However, it served its appointed purpose, and I did feel better after I had rested for awhile. This being the first time I’d really stopped to rest, it was the first chance I’d had to do some thinking. I was thinking about what an exciting life I was leading, and that it really was much more fun being an adult than it had been being a larva or a pupa. I was think¬ ing about the delightful meal I had had from that human being. Then I decided that when I escaped (if I ever did), I’d go right back to Buzzville and tell everyone about my adventures. I was just thinking that that would be the way I’d make Willie Swat notice me when, all of a sudden, I lost my balance and fell right fer- plunk into this pool of milk. And all the flying I can do will never get me out. It’s such a shame, for I’m so beautiful, and—glug! Evelyn Comey A QUIET CHRISTMAS EVE Wooo! Wooo! Wooo! The round house whistle echoed through the hills around Macy, a division point on the Vermont Midland Railroad, shattering the peace of the calm Christmas Eve. As the last reverberations died away into the distance, the vicinity of the railroad yards about the wrecking train became electrified with activity. It was as if some one had suddenly thrown a master switch. People rushed hither and thither, shout¬ ing commands, answering questions, and making a gen¬ eral hullabaloo. “700 piled up at Northfield; bad mess!’’ was on everyone’s lips. “And on Christmas Eve, for Pete’s sake, and us with the night off,” cried one worker to the world in general. Gradually, how¬ ever, out of the hustle and bustle men began to work systematically, and, recovering from surprise and drowsiness, to bring order out of chaos. At last all preparations were somehow completed; the powerful locomotive was coupled to the wrecker, and its train and the men, with the exception of a small group beside the engine, were on board. This group consisted of the yardmaster, the wrecking boss, the en¬ gineer, Bill Jenkins, and one of the work gang, Eddie Somers, a light haired young fellow clad in worn hut serviceable denims. As the knot of men broke up, the latter nervously cleared his throat and asked a question of Bill, to which the engineer replied, “We-ell, we’re not supposed to let anyone ride in the cab, but since you’re working on this road, I don’t see why I shouldn’t let you this once. Climb up there and hurry up! There’s the highball.” Almost before he fully realized the fact, Eddie was perched on the fireman’s box, cau¬ tioned to sit still and keep out of the way. Slowly the engine eased out onto the main line, rolling through clattering switches and gaining momen¬ tum with every turn of the drivers. Louder and louder the exhaust barked, pounding, pounding, pounding un¬ til the sheer rhythm of it seemed to make Eddie’s pulse heat in time. Jolting, jarring, slamming, the cab swayed back and forth with the rolling of the engine until it seemed impossible for the fireman to stand on the pitch- Ten

Page 15 text:

(L CHRISTMAS 19 3 9 large low windows on the opposite side of the room. A noise so slight that it would have been scarcely audible to the sharpest of ears, ears far keener than those of Lord Merrivale, preceded the appearance of a wild¬ eyed figure who was quietly struggling to find some means of entering the library without causing alarm. It could easily be perceived, even in that dim light, that he was near the point of exhaustion. It was in¬ credible, even though the ancient castle defences had long since been abandoned, that any human being could have scaled that rocky hill. Such an act would have been an almost superhuman task, capable of being per¬ formed by only a few men, a feat that indeed would have been worthy of a man of the stamina and perser- verance of—. But now the figure, after several more deft motions at the window, had leaped into the room. Why, it seemed as though—but no, it couldn’t be! “Rothscrewge!” shrieked the terror-stricken Merri¬ vale as he suddenly became aware of the presence of someone in the library. He had been thinking of him after all. He now rose and faced the person who, he was certain without having looked, was his enemy. “Yes, your lordship; Rothscrewge!” calmly answer¬ ed the intrduer, and one noted a trace of irony in his voice. The two rivals stood contemplating each other for several moments. Merrivale noted the grotesque picture which Rothscrewge presented as he stood staring at his oppressor. His ragged clothes were covered with blood, and his skin was torn in many places. Twenty years in Pengann Prison had turned his jet black hair to white, but his features were still the same unmistakable, mis¬ erable, sneering features of his greatest years. “I see that the years have treated you as kindly ac they have treated me badly,” he sneered sarcastically. “I see further you anticipated my return. Has my face haunted you greatly these twenty years?” Disregarding his query completely, the bewildered Merrivale questioned, “But how did you get here ? “Tonight, your lordship, my dreams at last came to fulfillment. After all these years of trying desperate¬ ly to accomplish my revenge, I finally made my escape from that ugly four-walled cell where you put me and ran the gamut of guards quite successfully until the las one shot me in the arm. But that didn’t slop me! Nor did the rigors of the journey stop me! I have come to kill you—and nothing can stop me! Rothscrewge had lost his remarkable composure and now his half-mad tones were becoming even mor shrill. He was rapidly growing more incensed. II continued, shaking with a certain uncontrollable mad delight, and snatched a dagger from his shirt. No Merrivale, nothing can stop me! Prepare to die! H ' yelled the last at the top of his voice and lunged for¬ ward, knife in hand. But Rothscrewge was wrong. Death could sto] him. Even his remarkable endurance had failed, and the miserable wretch fell onto the marble floor in a pool of his own blood. Midnight and the twentieth century were here! The great clock of Merrivale castle was striking! The pro¬ phecy was wrong. But wait! The excitement and near tragedy had been too much for Merrivale. His heart had failed. As the mighty master of British finances slumped into his chair, the words of his ancestor rang in his ears. And before midnight had finished striking, Lord Merrivale was dead. Stanley Stembridge OOPS, CLEMENTINA! Oops! One more slip like that and I’m a goner! Oh dear, my life is fading fast away, or rather slipping away by the feeling. Who ever would have thought that I, Clementina Stinger, prettiest mosquito in all Buzz- ville, would end my existence by drowning in a pool of milk? It’s really quite disgusting. If I have to drown, why couldn’t 1 have picked something besides milk; I ' ve never tasted such nauseating stuff in my life. And what a color—white milk. Ghastly, isn’t it? White looks terrible on me! It makes me seem so pale—as if I were going to a funeral. (Oh dear, I keep forgetting; I really am going to one, my own!) I’m so sad and lonely here in this pool of milk. What a sad finale for such a noble life. I don’t remember me when I was an egg, but all my aunts and uncles say I was the cutest little girl egg in the whole swamp of Buzzville. Course I’m not conceited, you know, but by the looks of me now I certainly must have been beautiful. (A lot of good that’s doing me now! One more beakful of this awful stuff and 1 11 be liquid myself!) Then I was a larva. If you’ve never been a larva, you really ought to try being one some day. It’s perfectly fascinating. All you do is eat and eat and then when you ' re so full that your abdomen feels as if it would pop any minute, you curl up (now a pupa) and take a nice long nap. This is fun, too, only not so exciting as being a larva, for you don’t re¬ member anything about it—at least I didn ' t. But when you wake up, you’re a full grown adult and, if you ' re lucky, a beautiful mosquito like me. 1 can still remember the first day I was an adult. 1 daintily climbed out from underneath the pool of water where I had been sleeping and flew up to a green leaf near by. I picked this special leaf because the color went so well with my wings, and, this being my first pub¬ lic appearance as a full grown mosquito, I naturally wanted to look as attractive as possible. That green leaf must have done the trick, for pretty soon all the other mosquitoes nearby started giving me the once over. The female mosquitoes all looked as jealous as could be, for none of them had the strong beak I had. 1 glanced sh l at the males, who were regarding me with pride. None of them appealed to me, however; that is, none except one. There he was—my dream male! His name was Willie Swat. Isn’t that divine? He was so hand¬ some that I just couldn ' t help falling in love with him. You know, the athletic type. What a build! What poise! Why, I bet he could out-buzz or out-fly an) Nine

Page 17 text:

CHRISTMAS 19 3 9 ing deck and at the same time heave the shining coal into the hungry maw of the firebox with such precision and regularity as he did. Finally Eddie turned from watching the untiring efforts of the fireman and the ceaseless vigilance of Bill to gaze at the flying scenery. As the wrecker had a clear track to the accident, there was no slackening of speed at any time. Towns flipped past with the same surprising suddenness with which farmhouses and barns tore by. There was not much to be glimpsed except snow and grim, bare trees; never¬ theless, it was heaven to Eddie just to be able to ride on a locomotive. If the men only knew how much this sort of job meant to him and how much he loved rail¬ roads, perhaps they wouldn’t ride him as they did. But how w ' ere they ever to find out? If he tried to tell them, they’d only laugh at him all the more. Anyway, maybe mere might be something he could do tonight to show mem. Maybe if he worked hard enough, they’d—but mok, here they were almost at the wreck. Sure enough, just one more curve, and then .... What a mess! The engine, a huge Texas type, was nearest to them, wallowing in the right of way like a great hog. Although its fires had been killed, escaping steam hissed gently from its sides making it sound more like a prehistoric monster than a modern locomotive t here, too, in the glare of the floodlights of the salvage train which had already arrived were the cars, some fifteen of them lying in almost impossible positions, piled upon each other and scattered all over the land¬ scape as though tossed about by a playful giant. Clear¬ ing up of the dreadful havoc had begun; already a good deal of work w ith the cars had been accomplished. But now wdth the arrival of the two locomotive cranes which were in Bill’s train, the most important job, that of lift¬ ing the derailed engine, would be accomplished in short order. As Bill brought the train to a stop, the work gang, including Eddie, piled out, eager to get their w ' ork done and return to their homes. From then on for four long weary hours Eddie sweated, strained, and swore; those tedious hours w r ere a nightmare, not horrible, but long to be remembered for their seeming endlessness. Heav¬ ing, lifting, pushing, crawling around under cars, shout ing orders, obeying commands—finally it all came to an end. At last the battered locomotive rested on it; own drivers, secure again upon newly laid rails. B this time, also, the lighter crane had accomplished it task, that of clearing up the cars which had been de¬ railed with the locomotive. I lie last car had bee i either set again on the rails or dumped bodily onto i Hat car. Waiting for the signal to start back, men every¬ where were resting and relaxing for a moment befoi packing up to return home. So it was with Eddie; bu. as he sat on a keg recuperating from his arduous labor his fertile mind was active, extremely so! There ha! been considerable discussion during the work concern¬ ing whether the wreck was accidental or whether sabo¬ tage had been the cause. Finally, however, the argu¬ ment had ended with the consensus of opinion that it was very probable, in view of the circumstances, that it had been caused by someone’s tampering with the rails, but that the person who had done it would be far away by now. Even as the argument had been closed, how¬ ever, Eddie’s mind was working, trying to reason out just what he would have done had he been the criminal. l ow he was still pondering this problem, his eyes star¬ ing moodily ahead. Suddenly their attention was caught and riveted to one spot. On the outskirts of the crowd which had gathered to watch the crew ' work, in fact quite a distance from the wreck, standing in the dark¬ ness surrounding the sphere of light thrown by the floodlights, there stood a dark, overcoated figure. The fellow’s sinister appearance was emphasized by his turned-up collar and his black slouch hat pulled down so as to cover his face. An alarming suspicion popped into Eddie’s mind; here, without a doubt, was the crimi¬ nal himself, returned to view his handiwork. Why else would he take such elaborate precautions against being seen? Certainly, that was it! Immediately a daring plan formulated itself in the boy’s brain. Why, if he could capture this fellow, not only would the other men respect him, but there also was the chance of the railroad’s giving him a better job! Trying to appear nonchalant, Eddie w ' alked slowly off until he was beyond the range of the lights. Then quickly he struck off the right of way down a slight embank ment to the left. This little gully he was in would conceal him until he was within about fifty feet of his quarry; from then on it would make little differ¬ ence. As rapidly and as silently as possible, Eddie W ' orked his way close up to the man, so close in fact that he could hear, through the clear night air which was absolutely still except for the hissing of the air- pumps and the subdued murmur of the crew’s voices, the mutterings of the person he intended to capture. Eddie paused a minute, resting a bit in order to get his breath before he charged. The man in the slouched hat was definitely mumbling to himself. Eddie couldn t catch the words, because they were smothered by the man’s coat collar. For a second he wondered to him¬ self if perhaps, after all, it wouldn’t be best to go back and tel l the men about it and let them do the capturing. Maybe this was a lunatic. But no! He had started it; now he would finish it. Lest he should weaken again. Eddie stood up, let out a shout of help to the crew, and dived for the man. For the next ten seconds Eddie didn ' t reall know what happened. The air seemed to be full of flying snow r , elbows, and feet. Twice his opponent got the upper hand, but each time Eddie somehow, by dint of pure grit, wriggled out of the man ' s grasp and on top again. Finally Eddie got breath enough to shout again for help. With this, the man astride whom he was sit¬ ting stopped resisting him. Instead of struggling, he lav there face down in the snow, his whole body shak¬ ing. “Oh, had enough, eh?” gritted Eddie through his Eleven