Somerville High School - Radiator Yearbook (Somerville, MA)

Page 18 text:

12 SOMERVILLE HIGH SCHOOL RADIATOR Cbe MooMot if cub 3B ft. BSvancl ftatnes, )£., ’10 ATHEK, you know there has been no rain for nearly four weeks!’ ex- claimed Mrs. Porter. “Everything is as dry as chips, said Harold, “and the fire will run like lightning through the grass. That’s just the reason I'm goin' ter set it. was the reply. It's the smoulderin' fires that does the damage. The brush is so dry that it will blaze up and be out in no time. And, besides, the wind isn’t blowin’ any. Put if the wind should start up while the brush is burning, it would carry the sparks right over into Butler's wood-lot: and you wouldn't want to risk set tin' his property afire, even though you aren't the best of friends. Don’t worry about Butler, he’ll look out for number one, and taint my business it) look out for other people’s property. Anyway, the brush is on my own land, and I have a right to set it whenever I please. Come. Harold, you get the oil can, and we'll burn that brush, then vou can go off and do as you want, only you needn’t see that Jennie Butler, for I'm not a-goin to have a son of mine marry a girl of that----- But father!---- Xo 'But father' about it. I just won't have it. that's all. Harold said no more, but went for the oil can, knowing that this reference to a possible peril to Mr. Butler's wood-lot had only served to strengthen his father's determination to carry out his plan. Mr. Porter made his way toward the pile of brush, muttering as he went: Well, if Butler hadn't acted so mean about that wood-lot, things might have been different ' That wood-lot which he had always cast covet- ous looks upon! Its great trees—many of which he remembered as full grown when he was but a boy—how proud he would have been to own them! But when it was for sale, and he had told his dearest friend. Butler, his hopes to possess it, and how he had always longed to own it. to have Butler outbid him at the auction was more than he could stand. He saw the pines and spruces wave in the breeze, and here and there a red maple. It seemed all so peaceful and beautiful that he forgot, for an instant, his hatred of its owner; but he was sud- denly interrupted by a loud, angry voice calling:— Look out there, Porter! You ain’t got no business sett in’ fires when it is so dry, and so near my wood-lot, too! I he farmer lighted a bough and stirred the pile into a blaze, and then flung back: You mind vour business. Jim Butler, and I'll mind mine! The brush blazed up fiercely for a time. and. as he had said, quickly died down into a heap of ashes, from which here and there could be seen signs of fire, but which Mr. Porter did not notice. That night, to Harold's anxious inquiries, he answered: I hope I know enough to burn a pile of brush without setting the world afire. But nevertheless his dreams were disturbed by visions of flames which seemed to accuse him, and from which he seemed to shrink. Harold, having spent the evening with a party of young people, had just returned home. Xot being sleepy, he sat down by the window. His thoughts wandered toward the quarrel, and lie said to himself: 1 don’t see why father wants to be so obstinate about Jennie. 'Twasn't her fault, or mine, either, that her father got that wood-lot. And. as he looked in the direction of it, he saw seething flames leaping from tree to tree. He ran to his father's door, and called in frightened tones: leather! I'ather! Wake up! Butler’s woods are on fire, and the wind is blowing the flames right toward his house.” The farmer sprang out of bed and rushed to the window. It was true. The corner of the wood- lot was all on fire, and. favored by the wind, which had sprung up in the night, was sweeping in the direction of Butler’s house. When the two reached the house, the Butlers had evidently given up all hopes of saving their home. With the help of a few neighbors, they were carrying the furniture to a place of safetv. Ben Porter, with stern determination in his tones, shouted loudly: Here, neighbors! Aren't you goin' ter try ter check the fire in time to save the buildings?” “What's the use of trying? cried one man. The fire'll jump the brook in no time, and then everything'll go ’ A despairing groan burst from Butler, but the tones of his old friend renewed the hope which he himself had. and he shouted: Set the growth on the other side of the brook afire! The only hope is to fight fire with fire ’

Page 17 text:

SOMERVILLE HIGH SCHOOL RADIATOR n Then we had to hurry in order to make up for lost time. Any one who lias ridden a bicycle on a country road knows that it is very tiresome, espe- cially when that ro.ad is very stony. Imagine our dismay when, upon hearing a hissing sound and glancing at Roy. we saw that young man, red- faced and puffing, jump from his seat and feel of his back tire. W e knew by the look on his face that it was punctured! He kicked it violently, as if it were the cause of his mishap. As he objected seriously to walking alone, and as It would be quite difficult to ride a punctured wheel, we were all compelled to walk, fairly lugging our bicycles at the same time. Weren't we furious when we learned that we were only about a mile from New- castle! A mile more would bring us to Eastgate. W ell, that wasn’t so bad, but it might be worse. It wouldn’t hurt us to walk that little distance, but we didn’t stop to reflect that a mile in the country is very different from a mile in the city. So. hot and dusty, we trudged on our weary way. drag- ging the bicycles after us. We met no one until just before we reached Eastgate. Then we met an old farmer, and eagerly inquired if he had seen a team answering to the description of Mr. Luttrel's. After scratching his head and talking to his horse for the space of five minutes, he answered: Wal. it seems to me I did sec a boss sumpitv like wot yeou say. Must be a purty good distance ahead now. Six miles, mebbe. Giddap!’’ Although this reply was somewhat discourag- ing. it gave us a little information about what we wanted. Leaving the wheels at a little shack, we walked on until we met another farmer, and after telling him our trouble, he said he'd turn back and take us half of the way to Derry. W e appreciated his kindness very much, but the hope of getting that troublesome scenery was growing dim. He let us off at a little railroad station half- way between Eastgate and Derry, and told us to ride the rest of the way. W e didn’t like to tell him that we had spent our last cent for the bicycles, so we bade him a cheery good-by. Then the question was: How should we reach Derry? W’e spied some water in the distance, so we walked down to the shore and asked a man to let us take his punt to go to Derry, lie readily consented, but our dismay was unimaginable when, upon reaching that town, we learned that no team had passed through there all day. No use! came from all lips at once. Dis- heattened and thoroughly out of sorts, we rowed back. Had somebody in Derry told us that scenery was to be had within the radius of twenty miles. 1 think we should have continued the search, but, under the present circumstances, nothing re- mained but for us to return home. 1 he man at the shore was quite angry when he understood that we had no money to pay for the use of his boat, but when his anger had somewhat abated, we managed to wheedle him into lending us enough money to reach the station where the farmer had left us. Then we walked to the bicycle shop, and found that the vehicles were all prepared for us. W’e told the man we’d send the money. He didn't quite like the idea, but there was no other way out of it. We rode to the blacksmith’s shop, regained the horse, left the bicycles, and rode the rest of the way home in ease. Mr. Luttrel was at the door, and just as we ap- proached. he hollered: Wal, young ’uns, here's your duds. You have larned your lesson. I had them all the time. We gazed speechlessly at each other for a full moment. Then Roy spoke. Well! I ll—be— darned!’’ said he. and we mentally echoed his words. But Mr. Luttrel only guffawed. Z. E. Club The T. B. C lub held its first meeting at the home of Miss Sylvia Aker September IP. It was de- cided to have a number of parties and dances dur- ing the coming season. ()ne new member was chosen. Miss Louise Hollis. Officers were elected as follows: President, Miss Marion Earle; treasurer. Miss Sylvia Aker: secretary. Miss Mar- jorie Sawyer. IPbt Hlpba The first meeting of the Phi Alpha Sorority was held September 27 at the home of Alice Baxter. Plans for the coming year were discussed, but nothing definite was decided upon.

Page 19 text:

SOMERVILLE HIGH SCHOOL RADIATOR 3 Xo sooner said than Farmer Porter snatched some dry boughs lying near the woodpile, and. lighting one, he waded across the brook, followed by Harold and some of the neighbors, who helped him apply the burning firebrands here and there until the undergrowth began to blaze, and soon burst into a mass of flames, not strong enough to reach the opposite bank, but leaving a space over which the advancing fire could not leap. Half suffocated by the smoke in trying to check t .e advance of the fire, the men were ready to give up. when Porter called out: “Jump into the brook ! And, following his own advice, he jumped into the brook, ami there renewed his fight with the tire. ()ne by one the men gave up what seemed to them a useless struggle, but Ben Porter kept on. stumbling, half-blinded by the smoke, beating back the flames. lie groaned aloud, not from his burns, but by the thought that the fault was his, and he mut- tered: “I'll save my friend’s home, or die in the attempt. Not until the growth was a blackened tract of land did he give way. and. blinded and half-suffo- cated. he fell unconscious into the cool waters of the brook. hen he came to, his blistered face was being bathed tenderly by a cooling wash. and. looking up. he beheld Jennie, while near her Mr. Butler and Harold were standing. “lie’s coinin’ to all right. He'll be about in a day or two. Ben smiled, in spite of the pain, for it was the voice of his old friend, and said: I’m sorry. Jim. His friend realized what a hard thing it was for Ben Porter, as proud as he was. to say that, and he cried: Sorry—for what, Ben? You ain't sorry you’ve saved my home, are you?” But—the—wood-lot! cried Ben. Only a small portion of that is burned; the wind changed all of a sudden. A smile lightened the face of the old man. and. extending his hand to Jennie, he exclaimed: “Here. Harold, take her; that wood-lot isn’t a barrier any longer. tube JBlack l ounb 36Xeonaib a. Ifiice, X., '12 iHE sixth of December, yes, that is what to-day is. The sixth of De- cember. 1901. Ten years ago to- night this strange business began. It was only last March that you came here, wasn’t it? Xo feller has been talking to you much except me. I guess, so probably you never heard about the Black Hound. Never have, eh? Well. I’ll tell you. This strange business began on the sixth of December, 1S91. It was a cold, bright night, and I was driving home from the mills. As I went past Lambdon’s place, young Lambdon ran out to the road and told me that Jim McCabe was lost in the woods, and asked me if I would be one of a searching party that was to start in a short time on a hunt for him. I told him yes, and then drove home and put the horse up. There were ten of us at Simpson's Spring at 11 o’clock ready to start. W'e agreed upon a signal if one of us found Jim. and then started olT. At about cpiarter of twelve we were again congregated at the spring, that is. nine of us were, but none successful. Rod Cam- eron had not yet come in. At midnight, as we were sitting around the lire, there suddenly arose a long, mournful howl, which rang through the forest. ()ur faces blanched, and we looked at each other in wonder. It was the most dismal cry 1 have ever heard. The first to break the silence after the awesome cry was Rob MacGregor. A wolverine, likely,’ he said. 'A wolverine? No wolverine or any other animal that I ever heard howled like that. Boys, boys. I’m not a coward, but I don’t like that cry, and I’m going home.’ one of the men said, but I growled:— ’Go. then. I’m going to wait for Cameron.’ At the name of Cameron every man looked up, but young Lambdon was the first to speak. ‘Cameron.’ he said, “you don’t suppose that howl—’ lie stopped, but we all understood what lie meant. W'e did not find Jim McCabe, nor did we ever see Rod Cameron from that day to this. ()n the sixth day of December. 1.S95. Rob Mac- Gregor drove to tile fort, which is about six miles from here, to see his brother Hal. His brother said that Rob started from the house about half- past ten that night. The next day a man, walking