Rockport High School - Tatler Yearbook (Rockport, ME)

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. 1is.thvca.t. No one stirred, so he began to steal silently on his way again. He finally reached the bottom of the stairs after much uncertainty. Now to find that door. He knew just where it was because he had memorized every detail, so that he would know where to go when the time came. He thought he knew! But, what was this he had walked into? Strange, it felt like a wall. At last he found the door leading into the room of his destination. Now, of all times, was no time to be careless when it was almost in his greedy fingers. Every plan must be followed care- fully. Moving quickly over to the shelf, he reached up with one hand to the container. He put his hand into it and felt around. A great wave of disap- pointment suddenly rushed over himg it was empty. Such an awful lot of trouble for a seven year old boy, and not one cook- ie in the whole jar! Ninon Ingersoll, '54 MRS. WILD DUCK MAKES A NEST Mrs. Wild Duck circled the woods one day looking for a place to build her nest. Down in the ravine where the stream flowed, there was a plea- sant spot, but Mrs. Duck had seen a fox down there. That was not a good place for a nest. Once more she circled the woods. This time she saw a large beech tree. It was very old and tall, and had a deep hole in the trunk, high above the ground. It was a little out of the ordinary for a duck to build off the ground, but why not? A nest in the beech tree would be far from the dan- ger of animals prying below. Mrs. Duck settled on the ledge of the hole in the beech tree and looked about her. She looked in at the pos- sible new home. The hole was lined with soft tree pulp. Eggs will hatch there very nicely, thought Mrs. THE TATLER 31 Duck. Still perched on the ledge, she viewed the scene below, and decided to look no farther. Mrs. Duck went about the work of building a nest. First, she gathered a few twigs together, putting them in the hole. Then she made the nest warm with downy feathers. After that, she went about the business of laying eggs. For a long time after that Mrs. Duck's neighbors rarely saw her. They forgot Mrs. Duck. Then one day Mrs. Crow fiew down through the woods calling out that something in- teresting had happened at the old beech. The wood folks looked and saw Mrs. Duck poke her head out of the hole. She had something dark and fuzzy in her beak. She dropped the dark object to the earth below, then in went her head again, and came out with another dark object. Fifteen times she repeated this operation. When the dark fuzzy objects were all dropped, Mrs. Duck perched for a moment on the edge of the nest, then she glided to the ground below. Then Mrs. Duck nudged each little black object, and quacked a sharp command. She marched off down the ravine with the fourteen baby ducks walking in a neat parade behind her. One little duck seemed rather stun- ned by his experience, and sat right where he had landed. He seemed very much alone. He was cold and hungry and his mother was gone. Mrs. Duck by this time had reached the stream at the bottom of the ra- vine. She quacked loudly to her brood, waddled to the edge of the water and then went in. Promptly her brood followed. Now Mrs. Duck led her brood across the stream. When they reached the other side, she found a place for them to climb the bank. She led them down the path to a deep thickness of leaves. Here Mrs. Duck hollowed out a soft nest and coaxed her ducklings to join her. Proudly she looked at them. They were a handsome family. But sudden-

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30 THE TATLER mongoose was just a little faster than the snake. Finally, the mongoose made the snake strike and with Very keen quickness, the animal grabbed the snake by the neck and killed him. About noon a native runner came to the village and told me that a wo- man had gone down to the river to do her washing and had been struck by the tiger. Watusi and I hurried to the other village as fast as we could go. When we arrived there, natives showed us the spot where the body lay. The vic- tim's body was sprawled out over the ground, partly eaten, with the right arm gone and one leg badly mangled. I decided that we should wait at night hidden around the victim's body, for the tiger would return for another dinner of his victim. It was around midnight when Watusi and I saw a dark shadow walking through the still night. As the shadow moved toward the open- ing, we saw that it was the big cat. I took aim and fired. The animal spun around in mid air and fell to the ground, but he got up instantly and ran into the darkness. We knew now that we had to get him quickly or many deaths would be left in his path. It was just getting daybreak when Watusi and I started tracking the animal. We found that he had been badly hit. The trail led into the edge of the swamp grass. We knew that there was only one thing we could do, and that was to get the spearmen to make a big circle of the area and close in. The procedure started with the na- tives yelling and jabbing their spears forward. Watusi was signaling me to come forward. I hurried as fast as I could, and all of a sudden there was a loud roar and the tiger ran toward Watusi. I yelled, Watusi, look out! It was too late. The tiger had struck with full force. I fired and heard the scream of the tiger. I fired againg then ran over to Watusi. There I found him with a broken neck. Tears came to my eyes, for I knew that I had lost a brave friend. I found that the tiger, 1d a long protruding spear between his fore- legs. The spear, I knew, was Watusi's. The tiger had been mortally wounded before I had finished him off. When we got back to the village, natives everywhere cheered me as a great hunter, but I told them that the great hunter was Watusi, who had lost his life for his people. The next day they held a funeral for Watusi. I watched them cremate his body and spread the ashes over a tall hill overlooking the village. Dur- this this ceremony I looked up and whispered, Good by, good by, Wa- tusi, and then turned around and slowly walked away. Danny Gross, '54 PLAN IN THE DARK It was a dark gloomy night and the wind outside was howling like a tor- mented animal. The house inside had the appearance of being cloaked in a black cloud. Everything in the house was quiet and still except for the silent, stealthy figure creeping out of one of the up- stairs bedrooms where he had been lurking. He closed the door quietly be- hind him and started to make his way down the hall toward the stairs. A loose corner on the carpet caught his toe and he tripped, but caught him- self just in time. His heart beat fast- er and he thought to himself, I must not fail now when what I am after is so close. Proceeding with care he again started toward the black pit which was the stairs. At last! Now he had covered at least a part of the way without mishap. He didn't want to do this but he knew he must have what he was after or die trying. Where is it? Here? No! Ah, now I have it. His hand grasped tightly on the banister and he began to descend. Suddenly a board creaked. He stopped and it seemed as though his heart was

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32 THE TATLER ly she gave a cry of alarm. One little duck was missing. However, Mrs. Duck could not leave fourteen babies to go look for one. No, she must stay and protect the babies in the new nest. She settled down on the leaves. And back by the beech tree, the lost duckling walked feebly through the leaves, too cold and hungry to cry very loudly. Its body shivered. After a while the little duck tucked its head under its wing and went to sleep. And there it was found by the greedy fox, for this is the way of the woodland. Shirlene Heath, '57 HILL-903 It's your nineteenth birthday, Bill Morse. It's a cold, wet birthday. It's your first birthday away from home. You're in a position that you wished you'd never be in, at the bottom of hill-903, North Korea. It's been quiet all day and, now that night has set in, you have time to think. Time to think of war. The stinking, rotten war! You've been a family boy all your life, and it's hard to get used to the tortures of war. You feel that if the enemy doesn't get you, the Weather will. Boy, what you would give to be home where you belong. You should be playing base- ball instead of running around a little piece of land, back and forth, over the same territory at least a dozen times a week, getting shot at for something you didn't start in the first place. You get up from the muddy bank of the trench you had helped to dig and splash over to where Bob is sit- ting. Bob Roberts is your best friend in the outfit. He is older than you, and seems to understand. Things al- ways seem all right after talking to him. He is sitting on a rock with water all around him, eating up the con- tents of a can of beans. He grins as you sit down beside him, placing your' MI on your lap, with a heavy sigh. Cold, isn't it Y you ask, tunn- ing your back to the wind. You won't be cold long, Bob answers, tossing the empty bean can over his shoulder. The LT. is taking out a scouting party tonight. You and I are included. We're just lucky that way, Bob says with a laugh. You tilt your helmet to one side and stare at the black overcast sky. A scouting party. What a birthday present! A long, wet, fearful walk into enemy territory. You figure you'd better get some shut-eye. You are wakened by a nudge in the back. It is Bob. Let's go, kid, he says. The rain has stopped and it is getting colder. The party gets briefed on the objective and you're ready to go. The job is to get a line on the enemy strong point a mile up the hill. You check your MI and keep close together as you enter enemy terri- tory. From here on in each man knows anything can happen. You're plenty warm now, Bill Morse, all warm except your hands. They are numb from the cold and sweat on them. You're at the top of a ridge now. Below you to the left is the objective. A well-lighted supply camp with plenty of supplies. The LT. splits the group into twos. You and Bob are to- gether. From here on in, no talking. You must depend on field signals. You finally stop on a crest overlook- ing the southern end of the supply camp. Bob hands you a pad and pen- cil. You both crawl as far as possible to the edge of the crest. Bob surveys the camp with binoculars and begins whispering the amount of tanks, troop trucks, artillery, and big guns on hand, as fast as you can write them down. With the inventory taken on your assigned side of the camp, you proceed back to the meeting place and wait for the rest of the party. It isn't a long wait and soon you are advancing back to your outfit. Your MI becomes heavy and your back be- gins to ache because of walking in a