Sheridan High School - Bronc Yearbook (Sheridan, WY)

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4 THE OCKSHEPKRIDA still the light shone—and shone and shone. As I looked at it, it slowly resolved itself into a tall white figure—a ghost! Strange to say, I was not fr'ghtened—or maybe, 1 was too terrified to be afraid. Apparently, not seeing me, it glided swiftly to a corner near the window. Then it began a tapping as if to find a loose board. I saw a bony hand put a paper down and close the board and when the ghost arose, glided back to the spot and disappeared. 1 jumped up. I must have been asleep I thoi ght. My head was throbbing. Quickly striking a light 1 walked over to the corner, where a few moments before, the ghost had been, and tapped the boards. Sure enough, one of them was loose! I took it up and dug in the dirt which was piled nearly up to the floor level. There was a parchment there! I could feel It distinctly! I drew it forth and read, “Wash in H. S. water.” O. mockery of it all, what could it mean? Surely not Hire's Soda water, or Hood's Sarsaparilla! Then I thought of the paper I had just read. H'gh School water! How I passed the few hours till breakfast is a mystery. I'm sure I did not sleep for fear of losing the parchment. As soon as I heard the hall clock strike 6 o’clock, I put on my hat and coat and went out. I enquired from a boy where the High School was. Which High School—Hartvi'.le, Bryan, Western------?” Sheridan, I gasped. Surely these people were unusually fond of giving strings ol names. Take the First street car to Alger, and transfer to the Nielsen He gilts line aud ride until you see a six-story red brick building. That's it.” It was not hard, by following the directions to get there. The building was decidedly fne and would have held a good half dozen of bu ldings like the one of which we were so proud. 1 found a fountain in the center of a lawn and quickly soused my parchment. No immediate change took place, but after what seemed hours of waiting, I began to see words; when these became thoroughly visable, I walked off and sat down on a bench. The sun was rising high now. but no higher than my hopes. This would prove a veritable gold mine, a burled treasure, and release me from tne trend of teaching. I never need look at a book tgain, except for pleasure. But, alas! pride goeth before a fall and my hopes suddenly fell flat, when I read: One more woman's curiosity Hath led her to become Initiated into Fooldom! ” A TRIP TO SAN PEDRO, CAL. By Francis Eggart, Long Beach, Cal. The train came to a halt and I jumped of. I was at my journey’s end, or Long Beach. Of all the dead places. Long Beach is the deadest ever. In about two hours I had visited all the places of importance and was looking for something exciting. I decided to go down to the beach, lay in the sand awhile and see if something would happen without my hunting it up. I accord ingly descended to the sands and was hunting a place suited to my taste when--------1 saw an old friend. Talk about being glad to see anyone, well. I was certainly glad to see him. We talked about th!s and that. but as the boats were new to me I began to question him about where they were going and so on. He said that they were either going to San Pedro or Catalina Island, and that the boats came and went every hour between San Pedro and Long Beach. I suggested we make a run over there and he agreed, so we went off to the pier where we purchased our tickets and got aboard a boat, “The Flyer,” by name. After a delay of ten or fifteen minutes we started. I was very much interested in this and that about the boat or something. At any rate, we never noticed that the sky

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Uhe OCKSHETE'RI'DA Sol. 1 Sheridan, Wyoming. January, 1909 JSo. 4 IN AFTER YEARS By Mpbelle Goehring, 11. “Sheridan! Sheridan!” called the porter. I motioned him to take my suit-case, and picking up my umbrella, started out of the car. It was a lovely November evening. Though rather cold, it was clear, and the moon shone bright as day. The depot, showing up plainly in the moonlight, looked strange to me. It was a stone structure with many arches. It was twenty years since I had visited this town. Perhaps I should not say visited, for at that time, I lived and went to school here. Why, twenty years ago, this very night I had stood in a jolly High School crowd, cheering good bye to our basketball team, who was go ng to Hillings. But that was at a squalid little two-story frame station house: and this—why, this was a city now! The street cars shouted it, the paper sellers cried it, and this depot, too. attested the fact. “Cab to any hotel you wish, mam.” said a man, touching my elbow. “What are the best ones?” I asked. “Sheridan Inn. Great Western. Columbia. Willits, Meteor, Union. Potter House-------” he began, not stopping for breath. “0. please, I said, “stop saying the list, and take me to—let’s see—the Sher'dan Inn. the names sounds familiar. “O, yes, it’s an old hotel, mam, he replied. The cabman earned his half dollar easily, for the Inn was just across the street. Walking boldly up to the clerk’s window, I asked for a room. “There is only one private room left on the first floor,” sa d he. Calling a porter to take my bag. he gave me a key. The room to which I wras led was a low ceilinged. large room, pretty well furnished and entirely different from anything I had ever seen before. The porter looked apprehensively at the floor, and I, following his gaze, saw there a round el-low spot, which gave off a phosphorescent light. Though it was very light in the room, the porter lit the gas. and went away. I hung up my things and was about to sit down when the light spot again attracted my attention. It gleamed persistency and fascinated me so that I was unable to take my eyes from it. Now, I am not a superstitious person, b it I am nervous, abnormally nervous. I presume that ten years of school teaching has played its part in making me so. When I was no longer able to stand the stra'n, I went down to the office and demanded another room. But no one seemed willing to investigate the spot and there was no other room to be had unless I shared with someone else. It was too late to go to another hotel and I always abhorred sharing a hotel room, so I mustered up my courage and went back. I resolutely pulled a small rug over the spot and then sat down to read. I had not read long, however. when the same tantalizing spot showed, on top of the rug. I w ent down to the office agan, resolved to share, if I must, another’s room. But the demon of ill luck followed me for then there was not even half a room left. Back I w’ent. resolved to “do or die.” Again seating myself, I picked up the “Oek-sheperida. How wTell I remembered it. All the names in it were strange to me, but the Sophomores still roasted the Freshmen, and the Seniors still warred with the Juniors. I nearly jumped out of my seat as the spot once again attiacted my attention. Thinking the light might have something to do with it. I turned out the gas. But

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THE OCKSHEPERIDA 5 was clouded till a cool wind, hinting of rain, caused us to look up in alarm. The sky was very dark and we realized that a storm was upon us. Even as we gazed, it began a steady downpour. It was still raining when we got off at Pedro. We at first thought to stay upon the boat all the while it was there, but the conductor said it was to stop fifteen minutes so we walked a block and back to get our blood into circulation. When we got back that boat had sailed. Well, there we were, out in the rain and a long ways from home. To make the rest of my story understood, I must describe the city of San Pedro and its harbor. The city is divided into two parts, East and West San Pedro. The division is made by the bay which is long, narrow' and deep. The only connection between the two is a ferry boat which crosses every thirty minutes. The street cars connect East Pedro with Los Angeles and the steam cars connect West Pedro with Long Beach. We saw a passenger train on the track about ready to leave the West Pedro depot, so we jumped onto the ferry which at that moment came up and were ferried across. When we got across, the depot agent told us that the train was a special and would not take us back, but the only thing to do was to take our medicine no matter how bftter. As we were on the w'est side of the harbor we decided to see that part of the town even if it was raining. We walked around for a few minutes and took our way back to the ferry. The ferry had crossed and there we were. (The boats from I ong Beach did not come to the west side.) As we were waiting for the ferry, our Long Beach boat came in. We got on the ferry as soon as it came and were just starting across when our boat started home. We were left again. When finally across, we thought best to camp right there and wait for the next boat. As we w'ere talking, my friend said the street cars would get us home in a little bit if we told them to stop and let us off at Carson Junction, s0 that we could catch the through car for Long Beach. I thought it best to go on through if we could so we went up to the office and found that no cars left for thirty minutes. We sat dow’n to wait, but hearing a boat whistle in, wTe hit a double-quick to the landing and boarded the conductor said that the sea was so rough, the boats would not run any more that day. We nearly fell over when he told us that but again decided to take the street cars. As we were running to the street car station. I slipped and fell into the mud. I got up and by increasing our efforts, we caught the car and were off for home—at last. I swore then never to go to San Pedro again, but I have been there twice since. Both times, I was delayed and came home by other means than the water. Fate must be against me. “SEEKIN’ HIS FORTUNE” By a Senior of 09. Little black-faced Rufus commonly known as “Ruf,” crept out of his hiding place and after a careful survey, made a dive for the shelter behind the board fence and dropped behind an ash barrel, just as his mother, known as Mammy Chloe. came from the kitchen after a vain search for the “black imp Ruf,’ as she called him. “Ruf, she called threateningly. “ if you don’ come heah------” then she stopped, “an I reckon it don do no hurt, guess I’ll let im go this time, but ne’ mind, next time—” This was as far as the threat got, for it was a common joke that Mammay’s “next time’’ would never come or perhaps Ruf w'ouid not have been so happy, as he sneaked off with a triumphant smile on his dirty face. He had not gone far when he was confronted by another boy of his own age. equally ragged and dirty. “Where y’u goin’?’’ shortly, from the stranger.