Scarborough High School - Four Corners Yearbook (Scarborough, ME)

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FOUR CORNERS IS sheep; and carrying in his burden, Harry saw the place was filled with a flock that, all huddled together, looked on him as on a shepherd come to see how they were faring in the storm. And a young shepherd he was, with a lamb apparently dying in his arms. All color, all motion, all breath, seemed to be gone; and yet, something seemed to convince his heart that she was yet alive. The ruined hut was roofless, but across an angle of the walls some pine branches had been flung as a sort of protection to the sheep or cattle that might repair thither in a storm. Into that corner the snowdrift had not yet forced its way, and he sat down there with Flora. The chill air was somewhat softened by the breath of the huddled flock, and the edge of the cutting wind blunted by the stones. Bright was the peat fire in the hut of Flora’s parents in Glencoe, and they among the happiest of the humble happy, blessing this, the birthday of their only child. They thought of her singing her sweet songs by the fireside of the hut in Blaine, and tender thoughts of her cousin Harry were with them in their prayers. So it was with the dwellers in the hut in Blaine. Their Harry had left them in the morning; night had come, and he and Flora were not there, but they never doubted that the happy creatures had changed their minds, and that Harry had returned with Flora to Glencoe. But the inland snow had been seen brewing among the mountains, and down the long cliff-path went a band of shepherds, trampling their way across a hundred frozen streams. Away over the drift-bridged chasms toiled that gathering, with their sheep-dogs scouring the loose snows in the van, Fiugal, the Red Beaver, with his head aloft on the lookout for deer. Following the dogs, who knew their duties, the band are now close to the ruined hut. Why back the sheep-dogs so? And why howls Fingal, as if some spirit passed athwart the night? He scents the body of the boy who so often had shouted him on in the forest, when the antlers went by. Not dead. Not dead she who is lying beside him. Yet, will the red blood in their veins ever be thawed? Almost pitch dark is the roofless ruin; and the frightened sheep know not what is that terrible shape that is howling there. But a man enters and lifts up one of the bodies, gi ving it into the arms of those at the doorway, and then lifts the other; and by the flash of a rifle they

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14 FOUR CORNERS The boy, maddened by the chase, pressed on, now alone, and thus he was hurried on for miles, till at last he struck the noble quarry, and down sank the antlers in the snow, while the air was spurned by the convulsive beatings of feet. Then leaped Harry upon the red deer and lifted a look of triumph to the mountain-tops. Where is Flora? Harry has forgotten her, and he is alone—he and the deer, an enormous animal, fast stiffening in the frost of death. Some large flakes of snow are in the air, and they seem to waver and whirl, though an hour ago there was not a breath. Faster they fall and faster; the flakes are as large as leaves; and overhead, whence so suddenly has come that huge yellow cloud? “Flora, where are you? Where are you, Flora?” and from the huge animal the boy leaps up and sees that no Flora is at hand. But yonder is a moving speck, far off upon the snow. ’Tis she! Shrill as the eagle’s cry, he sends a shout down the glen, and Flora is at last by his side. Panting and speechless she stands, and then diz¬ zily sinks at his feet. Her hair is ruffled by the wind, her face moist¬ ened by the snowflakes, now not falling but driven. Her shivering frame misses the warmth of the plaid, which almost no cold can penetrate. What would the miserable boy give now for the coverings lying far away, which in his foolish passion he had flung down to chase that fatal deer? “Oh, Flora, if you would not fear to stay here by yourself, under the protection of God, soon would I go and come from the place where our plaids are lying; aud under the shelter of the deer we may be able to outlive the hurricane.” “I will go with you down the glen, Harry.” But, weak as a day- old lamb, she tottered and fell down in the snow. The cold had chilled her very heart, after the heat of that long race, and it was manifest that here she must be for the night, to live or die. “I will go, and leave you with God,” said Harry; and he went and came as if he had been endowed with eagle’s wings. All at once Harry lifted Flora in his arms, and walked up the glen. Some walls of what had once been a house, he had suddenly remem¬ bered were but a short way off. There it was—a snowdrift at the open¬ ing that had once been a door; the wood of the roof had been carried off for fuel, and the snowflakes were falling in, as if they would soon fill the imide of the ruin. The snow in front was all trampled, as if by

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16 FOUR CORNERS see it is Harry Cameron and Flora King, seemingly both frozen to death. But the noble dog knows that death is not there, and licks the face of Harry, as if he would restore life to his eyes. The storm was with them all the way down the mountain side; nor could they have heard each other speak; but mutely they shifted the burden from strong hand to hand, thinking of the hut in Glencoe, and of what would be felt there on their arrival. Instinct, reason and faith conducted the saving band along; and now they are at Glencoe and at the door of the hut. To life were brought the dead; and there, at midnight, sat they up, ghosts. The first word that Hairy was able to speak was “Flora!” This reminded him of all that had passed, and then they both under¬ stood that they had been delivered from death. B. M,. ’15. miscellaneous Principal parts of well known verbs: can can’t fail flunk skato skate re falli bumpum plugo plugere testi flunkum Little grains of powder, little grains of paint, Makes a girl’s complexion look like what it ain’t. Of all the sad words of tongue or pen The saddest are these: “I’ve flunked again. M It was a vehicle marriage, This none can reproach; For she had a fine carriage And he was a college coach. PROOF Theorem:—A poor lesson is better than a good one. Proof:—1. Nothing is better than a good lesson.—Teacher. 2. A poor lesson is better than nothing.—Pupil. .‘. A poor lesson is better than nothing.