Somerville High School - Radiator Yearbook (Somerville, MA)

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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

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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 ’

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14 SOMERVILLE HIGH SCHOOL RADIATOR through a patch of woods about four miles this side of the fort, found a pung with a dead horse in the fills. The horse and pung were MacGregor’s. A man who lived close to the woods said that about midnight that night he was awakened from a sound sleep by a long, mournful howl which rang through the forest. Rob MacGregor was never seen again. Lad, the men who searched on that memorable night have disappeared, one by one. on every sixth of December. Last year it was young Lambdon. At different times on those days men have seen a great black hound, which, as soon as followed, slunk away into the underbrush or the forest. Men have met it and fired at it. but without effect. Lad, to-night is the sixth of December.” The old man paused, and I. for it was to me he was telling this story, felt the strange, expectant tensity which a mystery brings to one. I loosened my revolver in my belt, for 1 felt an uneasiness which kept growing on me. I was the express agent of the little town of Stanton, and old George MacGran was telling me this story in the little one- room station. I glanced up at the clock. It was creeping slowly toward the midnight hour. I looked toward the old man. He was sitting by the stove, his head buried in his hands, waiting, waiting, but waiting for what? The 1 !. ) express went thundering by. and then as we sat there the hour began to strike. I counted. ()nc—two—three—four—five—six— crash! 'file window contained a long, dark form which shot through and landed squarely upon the old man. I leaped to my feet, and my revolver spoke again and again until I had emptied the whole six chambers. I then sprang forward, ex- pecting to land on the form, but I struck the door with a dull thud. There was nothing there! I sprang to my feet. and. running to the door, looked out. There was nothing in sight, but sud- denly there arose a long, mournful howl which rang through the forest opposite the little station. I turned and looked into the station, and then with a cry of astonishment I ran to the part of the room where the old man had been sitting, and stood looking down at—an empty chair! The old man had disappeared! And again there arose a long, mournful howl which rang and re-rang through the forest. Club motes pi Omicroit U i The I'i Omicron Pi Club of the Latin School is now entering on its fourth year. Started in 1906 with a membership of eight, it has increased slowly, but surely, until at present it numbers twelve. The purpose for which it was organized was to bring its members into a closer comrade- ship which should prove beneficial as well as pleasant. The past years have been well spent, but the coming one should, and doubtless will, be the best of all. Vigorous plans are in operation, and much will be accomplished by the president and his sev- eral committees. 1 he membership is as follows: Kingman (presi- dent). Hatch (vice-president), Groombridge (sec- retary). Mead. McCauley. McKinnon, Killam. Hyde. Currie. Doyle. Honorary members. Grim- mons and Trueman. G. G. XL, 1 he Gamma Gamma Tan Club began its second year of club meetings and good times early in the new school year. The girls, who are all of Som- erville Latin School, ’ll. have planned a number of good times for the winter months. The pres- ent members are: Mildred L. Angell (president). Katherine Griffin (secretary-treasurer), Helen Field. Palmyra Lemos. Ethel Dooley, Bessie Jacobs, and Eileen Hopkins. ------------------------------- Cbe Eleven Club Eleven girls in the Junior class of the Latin School have a club which thev formed when they were Freshmen, called the Eleven Club. The members are: Alice Cummings (president), Edith Stackpole (secretary). Mildred inship (treas- urer). Mildred Angell, Mildred Brown, Ruth Cum- mings. Gladys Hastings. Gertrude Hooper. Mar- garet Lincoln. Ruth Whitehouse. and (iracc Mil- berry. who is now in Xova Scotia for her health. This is the third year, and they have had great success. Last year the club gave a dance the lat- ter part of February. They expect to have many jolly times during the two remaining years of high school.