Riverbend School for Girls - Vox Fluminis Yearbook (Winnipeg, Manitoba Canada)

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Vox Fluminis 21 hurt, Pedro, could it-. As the wind howled and the sand beat against the hut the little boy crouched on his cot. Pedro had not come and it was late, very late. At last Juan ventured into the whirl- ing maelstrom of sand. A rope about his waist, he groped his way and stum- bled suddenly, jerking the rope so that it broke. Juan tried desperately to find it again in the suffocating sand which whirled about him. It was gone. His chance of finding Pedro was gone too, and had he only known it, this was his own end, for he wandered now not towards but away from the hut and who could live for long in that storm? MARION BOOTH, Grade IX, Nelson Hall. .,. LE VILLAGE SUR LA COLLINE E village sur la colline est tres joli. Les arbres au bord de la route du village sont frais est verts. Dans les jar- dins, il y a beaucoup de jolies fleurs. Il y a des pruniers, des pommiers, et des poiriers dans les vergers. D-ans le village il y a un petit ruisseau ou une famille de petit canards jaunes aiment a jouer. J'aime a me promener au bord de ce joli ruisseau. HELEN MCLEAN, Grade VIII, Nelson Hall. MY FIRST AEROPLANE VENTURE ITH the air of a martyr, I stepped into the cabin of the small Seaplane which was tied to the pier. My knees and hands were shaking and I don't doubt that I was as white as a sheet. Somehow I managed to sink into a vacant seat. I sat still for a few minutes and gradually calmed down. The engine started. I began to quake and to look with longing and envy at the land which we were soon to leave behind. The town had never seemed so beautiful and secure before. The plane had left the water and we were climbing swiftly up into the heav- ens. I looked back at the little village we had just left. It was rapidly disap- pearing. I looked down. We were fly- ing over rolling country covered with thick woods, while here and there busy little ants moved hither and thither. They all looked so far down. I couldn't see the altimeter, but I didn't care to. I looked around at my fellow passengers who, to my surprise, looked as though they were enjoying themselves. One woman smiled at me sympathetically. She must have undergone this torture at one time too. The plane turned a corner at a ter- rible angle. I glanced wildly around for some paper bags but when I discovered them-I found that I didn't need them after all. After this I began rather to enjoy myself, that is, in a certain sense. I looked down once more. We were fly- ing back toward the town. The white road below us, dotted here and there with tiny black cars, wound in and out through the green woods and fields. I thought how much nicer it would be to be in one of those cars than in this aeroplane. The town came into view once more, and we circled round it before landing. It looked like a small toy village com- plete with people, trees, gardens and a wide river running by. I was really beginning to enjoy the scene when the plane made another of those awful turns. I didn't feel quite as badly as when it made its first turn. Suddenly the engine went off. I start- ed, but realized that the ignition was always shut OH when the plane landed. We glided slowly down toward the water. The aeroplane was levelled just above the surface and we hit the water with a slight vibration. The engine was started again and we sped towards the shore we had left but a short half hour before. I climbed out onto the pier with a slightly unsteady gait. I soon recover- ed and began to tell my friends how wonderful and enjoyable flying was. The next day in the paper I read

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20 Vox Fluminis dance. When he was finally alone, he went to the desk and was looking for the secret drawer when he heard voices coming towards him. He quickly jumped into the bed and drew the curtains tight. A carpenter had been summoned to repair one of the legs of the bed and Walter Raleigh had to lie still until he had gone. He quickly went to the desk, but just as he pressed the spot he was struck on the forehead and the lights went out. Walter Raleigh was surprised. He knew that he had been struck by the drawer of the desk, but the lights! Then he remembered that the museum closed at seven o'clock. The building was closed! He must get the paper and get out at once. He found the paper and put it in an inside pocket and then he hurried away. He got out of the room safely, but the problem was to find his way out of the place in the maze of corridors. He bumped into many things in his eHorts, but he kept on trying. At five minutes after nine the next morning a bedraggled young man pain- fully descended the steps and limped away down the street. A few minutes later in their room his friend greeted him rather sarcastically, but, ignoring this, Walter Raleigh took a sheet of paper from his pocket and gave it to his friend-then he wearily sank into a chair. What's this? asked Mac. Aunt Mary's precious document. You don't mean that! Do I look as if I didn't mean it? No, you don't, Mac admitted, but you will. Just look at this. I Walter Raleigh's important document was a Recipe for Nine-day Pickle. 66 RUBY BENIDICKSON, Grade XI, York Hall. NAVAJO UAN crept out of the cot on which he slept and, shivering, advanced as far as the doorway. He looked out onto the great lonely desert over which the sun was slowly rising. The great arms of the giant cacti cast grotesque sha- dows on the sand. The air was cool and still. The little boy standing there looking at this awesome spectacle sud- denly felt very small and lonely and a little afraid, not a bit the way he had felt the night before when Pedro had told him that he, Juan, was to stay all alone and look after the shop while Pedro went to San Blos, ten miles away. Then Juan had felt pleased and very proud, and, somehow, big as if he were greater than all the little devils who lurk in each particle of sand and each puff of wind in the treacherous desert. Juan was a Navajo Indian and ever since his mother had died he and his older brother Pedro had lived in the hut on the Mexican highway ten miles out in the desert. They made Navajo rugs and pottery, which they sold to tourists travelling on the highway, and made a meagre living in this way. Back in the small, dusty hut again, Juan shared his meal with his dog and watched the highway for customers. Finally a big touring car drove up and the occupants poked about in the musty crowded old shop and wondered, no doubt, at the strange conglomeration in it. From the roof and walls hung rugs, large and small, all with red in the pattern, and over the floor and counter was strewn pottery of all kinds,-jugs, clay burros, Mexican sombreros and many other things. To these people and others Juan sold many articles and by evening he was feeling very pleased with himself. Then it was he noticed that a wind had come down from the mountains and was blowing up tiny spurts of sand. Juan became frightened. O-ne of the too fre- quent sand storms was coming, he felt. Suddenly he remembered Pedro. He would be on his way home now. Juan began to worry. The storm couldn't

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22 Vox Fluminis about a terrible aeroplane disaster and marvelled that I had returned safely. EILEEN Woon, Grade IX, Douglas Hall. THE J OYS OF RIVERBEND iWith apologies to Bliss Carmanl Now the joys of our school are chiefly these, The songs of the birds among the trees. . K A birthday making it not so new, It gains in fun and experience too. The trees are turning green from brown, As we, with spring, our sorrows drown. We work and play from morn till night, We do the two with all our might. And when the parting day arrives We'll think of our school for all our lives. LORNA AIKILNS, Grade IX, Nelson Hall. WHY WE HAVE LILIES ON EASTER NCE upon a time in a beautiful garden there lived some flowers. There were tulips and daffodils and ever so many more. One day they were all talking together. Suddenly a tulip said, Why, tomorrow is Easter! Well, I am not going to be picked. Neither am I, cried many other voices. Does anyone in this garden want to be pick- ed? I do! said a Lily. Everyone turned and looked at the Lily. You would not like it, said a tulip, my sister was picked last year and I never saw her again. Well, I think you are a very stupid Lily, said a saucy daffodil. Sh, I hear footsteps. In came a little girl named Nancy. Well, ' said she, I shall have to pick one of you, which one shall it be? All the flowers hung their heads, except the Lily. So you want to be picked? Then, so you shall. When the people came to the table they all admired the Lily. This made the Lily very happy, because it knew it was bringing happiness to others. While they were admiring the Lily, a little butterfly who had been listening went and told the other flowers all about it. They were all very much ashamed. After that they tried to look bright on Easter, but no matter how hard they tried, Lilies were always picked. SHEILA SMITH, Grade III, Garry Hall. NIGHT The pines outlined against the sunset stand Like silent guardians over all belowg Behind the trees the sky's a purple glow Of color-orange, pink and mauve. O'er land And sea, a peaceful calm drops down. A strand Of gold remains, then fades and dies -the dark. A wisp of pallid fire appears, a spark, Another and another, hand in hand, The tiny stars the firmament o'er- spread. The silvery moon, with shimmering, glittering train, Mounts her high dais. Mortals hear her tread, Gaze up with awe at her immortal flame, Where on her royal throne, she lin- gers. Night In glory rises, pauses, dies in ilight. ANNA MAY COGHILL, Grade XI, Garry Hall. UNE VISITE AU MARCHE N jour ma mere, mon pere et moi avons visite le marche. Nous nous sommes promenes longtemps et alors nous nous sommes arretes devant une grande pendule. Ma mere a dit, Eh bien. Quelle belle pendule! J'ai dit, Oui! Mon pere a dit, Oui, mais le prix! Mais nous avons achete la pendule et