Santa Rosa High School - Echo Yearbook (Santa Rosa, CA)

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canoe. It was nice and cool last night, so I don’t care. I'm rather glad we burned holes in our bathing suits, too, arn’t you? We got to wear our brothers’, and it was such fun with no bothersome skirts to get twisted around our legs. Now, really, Jimmie don’t you wish with all your might, and some of mine, too, that you and I were boys?” “Of course, I do silly, haven’t I said so just trillions and gillions of times. It just makes me want to fight every time I get to thinking about it, but then you know what our mothers say when you and I have a real fight. Every single time we hear that same old—‘Now Jimmie and Billie aren’t you just awfully ashamed of your- selves to act in such a rough, rowdy way, when you know your mothers are trying to make refined young ladies out of you, so you will be able to enter society when you are of age.’ Oh, I just hate society, and worst of all to have to be a nice little girl.” “Well, let’s not sit here and talk about what we wish we were, but can’t be, and things that we have done that we are sorry for. Suppose we start upon this terrible journey into the wilderness, because we may never get another chance.” “Yes, we had better go because it does not take our guardian angels more than a century to fly up to the post office and back again to see if their darling daugh- ters have been eating jam or playing with matches.” We jumped up, found the paddles and pillows, went down to the river and got into the canoe. Soon we were drifting along enjoying the cool evening air. Then suddenly we saw the awfullest, spookiest thing that ever existed. On the left hand side of the river a white hand was grasping the willows. I looked at Jim- mie, and she looked as if some one had thrown a bucket of whitewash into her face, she was so pale. I must have looked just as bad, because Jimmie has never been able to describe the horrified expression that was on my face. In plain words, we were “scared stiff.” Many things flashed through our minds in a second. Of course we remembered a muffled scream a minute ago and a queer gurgling noise. In the gathering dark- ness we could intagine the water boiling up as the drowning person fought for life—we had wonderful imaginations, and I don’t doubt but that we could imagine most anything if we wished. What should we do, pull the person out by the hand? No, that would upset the canoe. Should we both jump in and rescue this person? No, we would probably be strangled to death. We wanted to play the hero, or heroine rather, but the mere thought of it made our teeth chatter. The canoe slid alongside of the band and we reach- ed for it before we thought. Horrors of horrors, our hopes of being heroines were shattered into a thousand pieces. The hand was a white glove filled with cotton and tied to the tree! Bess Godman, 719.

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Himmivr and FJ E WERE doing nothing. That is what Jimmie and I generally did—nothing, except when we went on some es- capade. If I do not explain who Jim- | mie and I are you will probably get (CF) the idea into your head that we are just two lazy boys, but you would be positively wrong. We are two girls in our “teens,” who are always hunt- ing adventure or cooking up something exciting, and whose mothers exclaim morning, night, and sometimes at noon, that on account of our boyish pranks they will probably be compelled to spend their next vacation at Napa in a padded cell. Ever since both of us could remember we regretted It couldn’t be helped, we weren't boys, so we consoled ourselves by being such tomboys that nearly everyone called us Jimmie and Billie, myself being Billie. that we were not boys. Ore evening during the last few weeks of our sum- mer vacation, we were comfortably propped up in two hammocks that were swung between some redwood trees just in front of our camp. The camp was in a grove of redwoods, with a few oaks scattered among them. We loved those oak trees dearly, for it was 16 there we used to hide when it was time to dry the dishes and sinfully giggle at our mothers when they would call, “J-i-m-m-i-e ! ! B-i-l-l-i-e !!!” and at last when they were certain we were drowned, we would give ourselves up to kisses and hugs—and the dish towel. From the camp we looked right out on the river, and a path led down to a small landing, where we kept a canoe for ourselves and a boat for our more timid mothers. Here, also was our swimming hole, and the springiest spring board you ever sprang from. One evening our mothers had gone for a walk to the grocery store and post office that were near our camp, so we were alone. Jimmie began to hum, and I knew she was cither going to sleep or cooking up some escapade, probably the latter, so I began to think up something, too. At last she broke the silence, and I found that we had been thinking of the same thing. “Billie, ’ve been good all day, and I can’t be good one minute longer, let’s have a canoe ride before our guardian angels come back.” “All right, Jimmie, my love, anything to please, but ve both have to be good so that our guardian angels— cur mothers, in other words—will forgive us for cut- ting out the back of the tent to make a sail for the

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Satan Cage and the Cirrus Dearish Hon. Sir:— Strange excitements occur in town recently. Brightish signs pasted up announce circus. School are closed on account of vacations, so I make plans to see everythings: Thursday evenings upon retiring to bed I ajust alarm clock to call me early. At 4:30 a. m. he ring like fire alarms, and I muffle him with pillows. Excitements are all inside of me while arrangement for my departure take place. Three and a half min- utes later I dash myself down to S. P. railroad station te await for arrival of Hon. Al G. Barnes’ Wonderful Animal Circus. One hour I await with shivers, while trains not arrive. “Daggers!” I stutter thru clicking teeth. are hon. circus?” Nobodies do not know either. “Maybe this are April foolish joke,” I gasp with impatience, while I proceed to wait thirty minutes longer. Soonly gentleman party exit forth from yel- lowish building and approach lady nearby my side. “Train have become derailed,” he inform us. She will not arrive until by-em-by.” “Where “Whizzes,” I hiss, with disappointment feelings, 18 while making retreats for bedroom, where snores are enjoyed by me until 8 a. m. o’clock. At 11:30 I take myself back again to arriving place of circus. Crowds are decorating station, like mosquitoes on fisherman’s Patiently for one half hour I wait, and then joys are mine. “Toot!” announces the train as he drag big, heavy circus into town. “Wheeew,” he whistle when labors are finished. Peoples crowd close to him to see every- things. Instantly animals are let loose from cars and lugged to camp. One male species of humanity with voice like rusty buzz saw, mounted on top of a horse, and proceed to boss the job. “Say,” he demjand, “employ swift speed there.” neck. Then he repeat several prayers which I learn in Sunday school. Bigish wagons are removed from trains by Hon. Elephant. Then lions, tigers, snakes and other fish are carried to College Lot. About this time hungry feelings are possessed by me, in regions of appetite, and I depart for my meal ticket. When I have stuffed myself with cake, pickles, dried fish and lemonade, I dash again to circus lot. While show people are employed in eating dinner, I