Seattle University - Aegis Yearbook (Seattle, WA)

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BILLY—“RACER” 23 its limit. The machine was now wide open. Foot by foot Billy crawled up on his opponent, while the crowd leaped to its feet the better to see the thrilling finish. Now they were even; now the Royal was ten feet ahead; now twenty—forty and still increasing the lead. Down the home stretch it swept, a rushing, roaring tornado. And as Billy flashed across the line, Coughlin hopelessly in the rear, the mighty roar of his winning engine was drowned in a deafening thunder of wild applause. The future of the Royal was assured and Billy beamed with the happiness of victory. JEROME R. KELLY, 4th High.

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22 SEATTLE COLLEGE ANNUAL Several minor races were run off and then at last, six chugging machines lined up for the last and the big event of the day, the “ten mile open. The pistol cracked and a chorus of pistol shots rang out in answer as the six sputtering machines swept down the track in a bunch. Billy singled out Coughlin, the only rival he really feared, and stuck to him like a burr. On they went, Coughlin in the lead, Billy a bare half length behind, and the others twenty feet in the rear. Slowly Coughlin increased his pace. For three laps the machines remained in comparatively the same positions, Billy keeping his position with ease though the speed was constantly increasing. Suddenly he heard the roaring of two other machines, one on each side. Quick as a flash, he saw what that meant. Coughlin had plotted with the two other riders to “box up” the Royal if it proved dangerous. Realizing the necessity of prompt action, Billy, with a jerk of his wrist, opened the throttle wider than ever before. In a moment he had flashed by Coughlin but in a moment Coughlin, who still had some reserve power, once more took the lead. The machines were again in their first positions. The race, contrary to expectation, was many removes from a tame event. The great crowd was now all on Billy’s side and cheered him wildly every time he flashed past the grandstand. “The kid’s riding a great race, was the comment of one onlooker, “but he can’t quite hold Coughlin. His machine hasn’t got it in her.” But the speaker did not know what Billy knew, that the good old Royal had never yet done her best. For the eighth time they whizzed past the stand. It was a rush and a roar, a fleeting glimpse of two determined figures crouched low over the tanks and they were gone. Such speed had never before been seen on the Tacoma track, and the crowd was wild with excitement. Now they had begun the last mile. Billy, his heart thumping as if to rival his engine, slowly opened the throttle to

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Stye Aftermath i. HE day was drawing to a close. The sun was setting over the western hills, bathing them in its golden light. Black, massy clouds had begun to gather in the evening, but the sun beat back the clouds. The gold deepened into an awful red, and the red passed into shades of violet and green beyond the painter’s hand or the imagination of man. When the sun sank behind the hills; there came from afar off a low, prolonged, and menacing rumble of thunder. It died away and then sounded again but louder. The black clouds began to advance as if at a signal. The heavens were obscured, not a rift of blue could be seen and darkness was descending over the land. The storm now burst with tremendous fury and seemed by its terrific convulsions to threaten the very foundations of the earth. From the depths of a cavern came the wail of the wind, gradually increasing in volume until at length with a deafening roar it passed on into the darkness beyond. It lightened furiously; snaky lightning, rinkling lightning, lightning such that the whole tent of heaven was torn by fierce fires. Suddenly above the fury of the tempest and the raging of the wind a human voice rises in tones shrill and discordant. It is a wild, despairing cry, like the wail of a lost soul. As the whole landscape burst into incandescence, it discloses the figure of a man struggling painfully and laboriously up the hill against the full fury of the storm. What errand could bring him to such a place and upon such a night? As he draws near, a flash of lightning reveals his features, wild and distorted in agony. But it is not an agony of the body. Xo, the warring of the elements and the convulsions of nature but faintly depict the storm of passion that, like the rolling and tossing of angry billows, seethes and surges in the soul of that unhappy man. At length he staggers to the mouth of the cavern and enters. And now the full import of the horrible deed which