Rowland Hall Saint Mark's - Hallmark / Lantern Yearbook (Salt Lake City, UT)

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bygone age. Behind us the coyotes howled in the darkness, which we tried to penetrate with fearful glances thrown back over our shoulders. Slim was in the midst of one of his most fictitious yarns, a story of a panther ' s den he had come upon in one of his travels. “An’ the pesky varmint sprung at me ’ he was saying. ' Them critters shore is mad when they’s frightened. Well, I grabs aholt of his tail, an ' afore he coulda done anythin’, I up and turns him inside out. We-uns had chow fer a week after.” The fire flickered and a half-burned log cracked. We all started, then laughed nervously. Then suddenly a wild cry rang out in the night. We were frightened almost out of our wits. Another one peeled through the air. The Indians must surely be on the war-path,” we thought. Slim had sprung to his feet. “Suthin’ wrong, folks, he exclaimed, and we all agreed. Tom said, “Someun’s gone plumb crazy. Le’s go find out what the trouble is, Slim.” ' I ' hey started off, we following them with our eyes dilated until their forms were lost to sight in the impenetrable darkness. We shrank back, shivering. I heard a maniacal scream, followed by a bright flash and a loud report. Then all I could think of was safety. Turning around, I started to run, screaming at the top of my lungs. I heard someone running after me, and 1 doubled my speed. Suddenly, some huge obstacle loomed up in front of me. I swerved, but hit it hard. It was soft, yielding, and when I struck it a hiccough issued forth and then, “Wha’s tha’?” came a thick question. “Oh — oh — oh! Shay lady, s’chuse me. I’m ish lookin’ for some water. My horsh ish thirshty.” It was the cook from the lower ranch. By this time, Mike had arrived, and the inebriate was firmly gripped by the collar. The foreman came up, and together they piloted him away. It seems he had been stealing Dad’s corn to make liquor and had installed a still in the granary. The girls and 1 walked back to the house and, though my parents did not come until long after midnight, we sat up waiting, armed with the mop- stick, a butcher knife, the stove-poker, and an unloaded twenty-two. The nick still remains in the fire-place w ' here the cook’s bullet struck. — Dorothy Drake, ' 29.

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JUNIOR CLASS SONG (Tune: “ Maryland, My Maryland”) Come rally round your standard bright Hail thirty, the orange and white, The burnished splendor of the sun Shall through the countless ages run, And with the broad expanse of snow Proclaim your name both high and low. Then Juniors to the call reply, And to your prowess testify. Ours it is to carry on, Ours the cloak of ' fame to don. As ever onward rolls each year, Let ring your paean loud and clear. — Geraldine I losmer Motto: Good, better, best, Never let it rest, Till the good is better. And the better, best. Flower: Pussy Willow. Symbol: Wildcat. Colors: Orange and White. Geraldine I losmer ........ President Anne Wallace Vice-President Leta Haviland Secertary-Treasurer