Scituate High School - Chimes Yearbook (Scituate, MA)

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THE CHIMES 13 THE LIFE OF THE NORTH The ground was covered with glistening, crusty snow. Off in the distance the snow-capped mountains reflected the pinks of the setting sun. The trail was worn down to a rutty mass of white, with a coating of ice which cut the feet of the hard- working sled dogs, and left little red stains which made a pretty contrast with the white snow. Up the lonely trail came a sled drawn by eight husky sled- dogs. On the sled, partly buried with fur robes, sat a young girl. Her face was aglow with a healthy red, and her hair curled around her face in yellow ringlets. A fur cap was pulled down to meet a fur collar, and she was urging the dogs onward to a greater speed. Through the gathering dusk came the cry of wolves, ever nearing; and Justine's eyes glistened with the cold and with the fear of the e creatures. On and on went the team; down the frozen river, and up the bank — in silence except for the grating ice under t he runners and an occasional whine from a dog. Mitzi, the leader of the team, was growing restless. Every in t nt she set up a howl to the moon that echoed through the stillness of the v oods. F om the distance came an answering cry from the pack of wolves. Justine shivered. Then in the distance appeared a black spot. It was rapidly approaching; and as it came nearer, Justine recognized it as a dog team. She was instantly alert. Wild thoughts were surging through her mind. Friend or foe? But it turned out to be Jose from the trading post. Justine sat back with a feelinsr of security as he came up and turned his team about. As they jogged along toward home, he explained that the family had become worried, and he had set out to find her. and bring her safely home. Then they realized that the pack had scented their trail and v ere ''dogging them. In Jose's quiet manner there was no Fign of fear, but he was inwardly planning how to protect themselves. Finally he said, ''We had better stop and build a fire. We can't go much farther without being attacked. So they rolled out of the blankets and started a fire with the box in which Justine was carrying provisions on her sled ; they al o secured some large dry limbs and made a pile to burn, little by little. Then the frightened dogs were un- hitched and the sleds turned sideways with the fires at each end to fo m a barricade. By this time the pack was sneak- ing near them, not quite knowing what to do, as fire was their greatest enemy. Justine and Jose threw the hungry pack a huge quarter of lamb, one of the articles of provision. This kept the pack quiet for several minutes, eating and growling. The lighted

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12 THE CHIMES Winslowe, her brown locks as tousled and charming as ever, her dark eyes as full of impish glee and tender love as only Julia Winslowe's eyes could be. An instant she stood poised, as a butterfly on some trembling rose leaf, and then an ever so slightly turned up nose with nine tiny freckles, impudent laughing brown eyes, and a face that altogether looked like an impish sprite of Maxfield Parrish, was pressed close to Kent Stewart's rainsoaked coat. And Miss Julia Faxton smiled on the two nieces who had been named for her. H. L. Wilson, '26. HARVEST TIME The weather is cold but bright. The days are shorter, too. The nights are chilly but clear. Each dawn brings frozen dew. The barren fields are frozen and hard. The frost comes every night. The squirrel is busy packino- nuts In his home all snug and tight. The turkey tries to hide away He knows his doom is near. The children hustle to find their skates And run to the pond with a cheer. This is the harvest time of the year, And the birds to the south have flown. The harvester goes forth to reap, And gather what he has sown. No man can expect to receive Any more than he has given. The man that gives the best he has Is the man that is nearest Heaven. Wallace Torre y, '26. THE TOWER Majestically it rises above the land; A tall gray spectre of better days. The b 'rds nest in its shiel Mng eaves And shriek encouragement As it struggles to reach the sky. Year in, year out, it has battled The howling winds and pelting rains. Year in, year out, the tentacles of tiny vines Wind about the weather'd shingles; Yet despite all Nature's protests. It still remains, through passing time. Showing its former splendor But undefeated! Jean Lawson, '26.

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14 THE CHIMES sticks, flourished over the heads of the beseiged, bewildered the wolves. The dogs were soon lost control of, and with angry snarls they surged into the pack, all but faithful Mitzi. The rest of the wolves, not occupied with fighting the dogs, were pushing forward almost tasting the blood and flesh of the humans. With madness several at a time would dash forward, only to be repulsed by the fires and flaming brands. The woods, to the beseiged, seemed an ocean of gleaming teeth and fiery eyes. They grabbed and tore the fur rugs to shreds. Defeat and death seemed near. And then sudd enly Jose remembered his automatic. In the frenzy of the barricading and starting fires, he had for- gotten his means of defence — firearms. He fired into the surging, angry pack. The flash and report frightened and terrified them. For a moment and only a moment, they stood as if frozen in their tracks. Then they turned; and with a last snarl and howl fled into the darkness of the woods. The moon made a white path over the hills and lighted the woods. On the ground lay frozen bodies of dead wolves. But the night was serene, and from the distance came the howl of the still hungry, hunting pack. Katrine Schuyler, '27. NIGHT A cricket's tune, 'Neath a silver moon, A soft wind's sigh, A starlit sky, A flicker bright Of a firefly's light — And this is night. Helen Healy, '26. THE STORM KING The Storm King comes in his chariot of white With his wintry winds and snows. He whistles and shrieks like The war of the bands That come from the depths below. The Storm King is a man of great age With his hoary locks so pure; To watch him as he soars through the sky Will remind you of mythical days of yore. The Storm King is a man of great strength He destroys things that come in his path Like a reaper of Death, he does not select But takes them as they pass. L. Panetta, '26