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

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Che Srramble of the Eggs feqN front of the little, weather-beaten country post-office, on two well worn benches that showed the effects of usage, the village loafers and the farmers from out of town were sitting and gossiping, and exchanging the latest news while opening their mail. A political argument was under way, and the bystanders urged on the debaters, the village blacksmith and the postmaster, until it looked as if the affair would come to blows. At this juncture, however, the attention of the combat- ants was distracted by the appearance dawn the road of a little dried up farmer, minus his hat, his whitewhiskers bob- bing up and down as he walked. The little old fellow was leading a dilapidated looking mare,which was pulling an equally antiquated wagon, while under the wagon trotted a dog of such nondescript breed and disconsolate appear- ance that he matched the rest of the group perfectly, and over allman, horse, wagon and dog were splotches of yel- low, irregularly laid on, so that the procession looked as if it: had passed under a painter’s scaffold at the instant he dropped his bucket. As the procession drew near, a chorus of- inquiries greeted it from the benches, but never a word did the old farmer answer as he carefully tied his horse and stepped on 16 the porch. hen he shifted his tobacco to the other cheek and indignantly began his tale of woe. “Fellers,” he said, I’ve had a most turrible time. You all know where the county road goes past my corn field? Wa’al, at any rate my field’s on one side and there’s a row of oaks on the other. Boys, I comes down that road first thing this morning with some baskets of eggs to ship to the city, and, by gum, the first thing I sees is that pesky black cow of Henry Fulcombs in my corn-patch. You all know Henry and you all know the cow. They’re both alike, just as cussed and ornery and naturally perverse as a nest full of hornets!” The old man paused to get his breath, and his audience sat silent and expectant, till, having mopped his forehead with his red bandana, he began again, gesticulating violent- ly, and more excited than before. “ll tell you, boys,” he continued, “I was mad. I hitched Betsy, here, to a bush and gits a pocket full of rocks and starts in to chase that ding-busted cow out. Waal I gits into the field all right, but the minute I gits near the cow , she just hoists her tail over her back and puts out across the field like the old scratch was after her!” The old man was waving his hands frantically now, ti mt

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the track. Could he ever run before to While he was trying to persuade himself that he could do many people? better than he ever did before, some one called to him. He turned to see Marjorie and walked over to speak to her. Dick had spent many happy evenings at the Stepheps home as it always seemed as if he was in a home when he went there, so he and Marjorie were great friends. “Dick, you go in to win that half mile, wont you? Don says you are good in the sprints for having trained so little, but that Russell and Clark are better. He thinks yon can win the half mile, though, if you try real hard.” “Of course I'll do my best, Marjorie, but don’t ex- pect too much. I wish I could win, though.” The events were run off quickly, but to the impatient Marjorie it was all too long until the half mile came. Dick had not done well in the sprints. He had gotten nervous and had not started well. He could run fast and came up to fourth in the one hundred yard and third in the two- twenty, much to the delight of the freshmen. “All out for the half mile, fellows!” came the call. “T mttst and will win!” said Dick as he took his place. “Ready! Get set!” The words sounded crisp and distinct. “Go!” the starter said as the pistol went off. Dick was off with the others. He waited for one of the other men to set the pace and he determined to keep close behind him, whatever happened. Dick knew that the man that took the lead was a sen- He felt that the runner was ior, and not their best man. trying to lead him too fast, but he ran along easily. If the freshmen won this event, they had a chance of winning the meet, otherwise the seniors would probably win. While Dick was thinking over these things he noticed that they were abuot half through. Now the test woula come. He was a little more winded than he had expected to be, but the man in front of him was falling back and he would have the lead. Yes, the man in front of him would Some one was have to drop out. But what was that? coming up behind him. He could hear the swift beating of their spikes on the track. He went faster, but still the run- ner came on. The crowd was cheering. He heard the freshmen yelling his name. He must win for them, but he was so tired. fis lungs hurt and the finish seemed so far off and— “Dick runs That was Marjorie. Yes, he would run and win. He drew himself together and made one final effort. Then the tape loomed up in front of him and he reached out and fell across the line a winner by a few feet. Dick felt some one rubbing him and opened his eyes. “Never mind. old fellow,’ said Don, “you won and that probably means the meet for the [ reshmen.” —HELEN CRANE.

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his whiskers jerked up and down as he talked, emphasizing his words, and he seemed to forget his auditors as he vit- ualized the morning's tragic occurrences. “T wears myself plumb out,” he said, “chasin’ that cow around the field, drat her! She tramples on all the corn, and I loses my hat and falls down, and when I gits up I jes’ gives it up as a bad job, when what does she do but go par- adin calml o1t tiie hole in che ‘ence on t the roac, like | in the middle of the road, and she looks as if she was a- laughin’ at me. [ellers, that was too much! [ picks up a rock and heaves it at her, and she hoists her tail again and lights out down the road. Then I sees I made a mistake for Betsy, tied a little farther along, gits kind of excited, when she sees that cow a-comin’ down the road like she means to go .ome place. Be sv bacis up:s tor as the rope vill let sir’ sport lets out a yelp you could hear a mile, and hearin’ that racket behind her, Betsy pulls loose and starts down the road while the old black cow is a-comin’ up. I starts to run as fast as I kin, and I says, says I, “Whoa, Betsy ! look out for them eggs!’ But she never pays any attention and the cow, she keeps right on a-comin’ It was awful Every time the wagon hits a rut a few eggs flies out of the bas- kets and smashes in the road, and Sport, who is a-runnin’ behind the wagon, gives an extra howl every time an egg hits him, and Betsy gives another jump, and comes a little might faster. It sure looks like it was a-goin’ to be an aw- ful accident, I knows if they ever hits, I will never be able to put Betsy together again, and I don’t want to pay that old coot, Henry for a cow that eats all my corn. Wa’al boys jest as they was a-comin’ together, and I thinks its all over, Betsy all of a sudden braces all four feet an’ slides along and stops, and the cow turns to one side and tries to pass, But right when Betsy stops so quick, the eggs don’t. They keeps right a-goin’!) They sails up in the air and comes down and busts, jest like them German bombs we reads about in the papers. One whole crateful falls out on Sport and makes a regular omelet on him and all over the road. I gits there just in time to get some, too; I tries to dodge, but it wasn’t no use, a s you gents can plainly see. As for Betsy, she was just wadin’ around and a-snortin’ like a loco- motive. And I'll be switched if that cow didn’t catch one horn in the handle of a basket with it haingin’ on her head and the eggs rattlin’ out and runnin’ down her back. Boys, that was a mess! that was a mess! That place in the road will be one omelet for weeks, and I don’t believe that cus- sed cow is stopped runnin’ yet. I had to lead Betsy back to town, she is so scared, and I konws she will never be hand- some like she was once. Just the same.” and here a satisfied smile spread over his face,“I bet Henry Fulcomb wont rec- ognize his cow the next time he sees her.” He turned to go into the post office, but as he reached the door wheeled about, and shaking a warning finger at the assembly, shouted, “Don’t none of you fellers ever trust an egg, it wont treat you right.” a —EDWARD R. CLAPP.