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

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THE FOUR CORNERS 15 racing, not against human strength ami endurance, but against the little second hand of a strap watch . A small, delicate little spring, a little wheel; the tick, tick, tide of seconds and half seconds—which would win, man or metal? The starter called out the mile; that was his event, his specialty. He warmed up, taking off his wraps. Now he could see his opponent, Ihe watch. On his left wrist it was; that meant that it. would be one position nearer the pole. Should he start out fast to overcome the lead, or drop be¬ hind his opponent? He resolved to fol¬ low the schedule that he had planned the night before: sixty-two seconds on the first lap; sixty-three on the next two; sixty-two on the last. A new record—if he could beat his little opponent, beat lime! They were taking their marks; the gun —off they went. At the quarter mark he glanced down — seventeen seconds! He lengthened his stride. At the first lap sig¬ nal he was out in front, sixty-two seconds flat. “Gosh, Gene looks good today,” said an enthusiastic admirer. “Yeah, but watch him fade on the last lap!” answered a seasoned track fan. His wind was coming faster, but he coul d afford to slacken his stride. At the second lap signal his opponent registered sixty-three. Neck and neck! But now he started to have trouble, a tingling cramp in his ankle. If he could only shake it off! He broke his stride and lost a precious half second regaining it. His momentum had been cut, too. Half lap on the third, and his opponent had gained an entire second! lie tried to lengthen his stride; what was the matter with him; where was his fight? Was it really true, this intestinal forti¬ tude stuff they had been dinning into him? Three laps—sixty-two, sixty-three, sixty- four and five-tenths. He was a second and a half behind his opponent! The watch was six yards ahead of him! He could hear the lick, lick. Lick of the watch beating out its stride. His opponent was holding out its time ; why couldn’t lie ? ITc made a little burst of speed. The gallery was on its feet; but he wasn’t noticing the gallery, only the little pace-maker on his wrist. Quarter lap gone; panic; an iron bar across his chest. His feet were leaden; no push, no go. He was running mechan¬ ically now. Suddenly something inside snapped; his second wind had come. He wasn’t running now; he rose; lie fairly flew! The crowd, the cheers, he didn’t hear, only the lick, tick, tick of his oppo¬ nent. One hundred yards; fifty; thirty— there was the finish line; there was the tape. He drove his legs like pistons; metal against metal now. He closed his eyes and lunged, breaking the tape. He fell. When he was brought to the lockers he saw that the watch was broken and had stopped on exactly sixty and five-tenths. Sixtv-two, sixty-three, sixty-four and five- tenths, sixty and five-tenths — a tie with his opponent, but a new record! Gene and the watch were co-holders of the new record. Howard Lyons, ’32.

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14 THE FOUR CORNERS deacon, was as near like him as anyone could he. Early in the morning the sweet, clear tones of the hells could he heard for miles around, calling the congregation to meeting; down lanes and byways to the road, and hence on to the church, they flocked in Sunday attire. On the five school days another hell could he heard, solemnly calling little loiterers to their lessons in the little white schoolhouse on the hill, on the top of which the old iron hell hung in a lazy fashion. In the center front of the one room within, stood a truly quaint stove and heside it a pile of wood cut by the sturdy school¬ master himself, a man who was the exact opposite in appearance and characteristics of the well-known Tchabod Crane. As the extreme south of Scarborough is bordered by that ever-moving Atlantic Ocean, and its shores by great stretches of white sea sand, shipbuilding was in early times her chief industry. When each ship was completed after weeks, and sometimes months of hard labor, the whole neighbor¬ hood turned out to help launch it with a merry send-off. Often one could hear along a river bank, in those days, the sound of a mill wheel, or far up the stream the buzz of sawing ma¬ chines cutting the great logs into lumber. On nearly every river that had any water power, there was either a saw or grist mill. But not all the time of the early settlers of Scarborough was spent in labor; there were days devoted to pleasure, when the village people would all go on a picnic, or the ladies gather for a quilting party, while some pleasant evenings were spent at husking bees. There were also barn dances, with games and contra-dances, to unite the villagers in a spirit of friendly merrymaking. Annie Lyons, 33 . A RACE WITH TIME The day was a little muggy. No wind blew. The spectators—fifty thousand, the pressman had said — were sweltering in their seats. It was a poor day for a race, but just the sort of day that always kept him in top form. lie felt unusually fit; no nerves — indeed, there shouldn ' t he in his fourth year of varsity competition. Steady training had worn him down to long, sinewy, powerful muscle; no fat there, no extra baggage. Last year he had been conceded a fa¬ vorite; but this year to the newspapermen he was just one of the runners. A mighty good man, they admitted, but no “guts.” His coach had told him the same thing, had told him that he was through. His math prof even had given the class a lec¬ ture on “intestinal fortitude”; he had known that it was meant for him. The track classic of the year—his last chance. For weeks the men about him, as well as lie, had been working for this event. There was that fellow who had beaten him on the last lap his sophomore year; there, the fellow who had just re¬ cently set the new indoor record. .Nerves were starting, but with an effort he shook them off. No, those fellows didn’t espe¬ cially concern him; this year he had chal¬ lenged himself a different way. He was

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1G THE FOUR CORNERS LOVE ON THE RIVER THAMES Carol turned slowly from the mirror into which she had boon smiling with co¬ quettish appreciation, and spoke to her maid. ' •Ursula. I am going for a boat ride on ilie River Thames, and 1 shall want my blue silk dress. Help me take these papers out of my hair; bring out my rose creams, powders, perfumes, patches—and hurry! You know how long it takes to dress my hair in the new French fashion. Today, Carol would have been called a ravishing beauty even without all the make-up she had to wear to follow the mode set by the ladies of Queen Anne ' s court. Her hair was golden and wavy, with ringlets clustered around her snowy neck; her eyes were a deep violet blue: well-formed and deep red were her lips, and soft and pink her cheeks, showing that she glowed with health. The procedure of the eighteenth century lxmdoir was long and tiresome. First the creams and elaborate face washes were ap¬ plied: then the powders and delicately- blended perfumes. Two large beauty patches graced Carol ' s chin and right cheek, her hair was piled high upon her head, and the last intriguing hook of her blue dress was finally in place. For a long time she admired herself before the mirror while Ursula exclaimed with pleasure. Later when Carol drifted slowly down the Thames, rowed by an old boatman, all eyes were bent toward her. She was used to admiration and paid little attention to it. She was rowed to the bank, where she alighted and went toward the home of her dearest friend, Angela, to have tea. As she rushed forward with hands outstretched to greet Angela, who was coming to meet her, a handsome young man stopped up and addressed her, 1 beg of you, pardon my rudeness for speaking, but 1 wish to return your handkerchief, which you just dropped. As Carol raised her eyes to his, she thought him the best-looking man she had ever seen, dust then Angela said, Why, Bruce, it ' s you. Where have you boon these past few years ' And how do you happen to be talking with Carol-bird ' 1 didn ' t, know you knew each other.” We do not know each other; Miss Carol dropped her handkerchief and kindly al¬ lowed me to return it. Angela laughed. Well, come into the house, she said, and I ' ll introduce you and give you a cup of tea in the bargain F ' Inside they were met by Angela ' s mother and many guests who greeted them noisily. Carol sat down at a small table alone and sipped her tea. She had not been there very long before Bruce joined her and the two chatted gaylv over their tea. Their bright laughter attracted the attention of Priscilla Hathaway, who was sitting with Robert Phipps, a young man who had been in love with Carol ever since he had known her. Priscilla had always been infatuated with Bruce since the days when they had played together as children. She had al¬ ways, too, disliked Carol because of her beauty and charm; to see her thus with Bruce was too much for poor Priscilla to