Somerville High School - Radiator Yearbook (Somerville, MA)

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SOMERVILLE HIHH SCHOOL RADIATOR 29 kerchief which had been wrapped about the relished lunch. Tom remembered his mother had told him she had slipped something in his hip pocket which she said must not be touched until he had finished his lunch. He eagerly put his hand into that pocket, and withdrew it. hold- ing something wrapped in paper, and opening it. he saw three, large peppermints which would be his dessert. That mother of his seemed to realize everything that he wanted. Then, after eating these, lie again drank of the refreshing brook water, then picked himself up and should- ered his gun. Once again was he off on the hunt, now a dillerent hunter than he who had but half an hour ago seated himself on the moss beside the brook. He had come as far as a large hill called Por- cupine Mountain, and now decided to turn about and make his way to the place where he had first emerged into the woods. It had taken him all morning, and good long one that, to come to where lie now stood, and he realized it would be near dusk or after before he came to that trail which ended at the head of the small lake. He made a new horn, taking special pains with it, for he was determined that he would get that which lie had hunted for so long, namely a big bull moose, or even a good sized buck or a deer would, perhaps, satisfy him. He started out and he put all the energy lie pos- sessed in that first call, but still no response. He walked on a short distance, and again lie called, again the same result, lie repeated the performance of the morning until he was sick and tired of calling, a longer interval coming between each call, until he called once in about every half-hour. T he sun was just sinking over the horizon when he came to a knoll, higher than the rest. and saw just a short distance away from the lake and the trail. That gave him fresh energy, so he determined to call just once more, and he called as he had never called before. lie lis- tened. He heard an angry snort, the snapping of iimbs. and the thundering of great hoofs, al- ways coming nearer. He looked in the direction from which the noise came. Oh. what a sight! He saw something which chilled his blood. great animal, as big as a horse, with great antlers and fiery eyes, shining like great balls of fire, frothing white foam at the mouth, with his head slightly lowered, snorting and bellowing, coming right towards him. There! lie had just scented his hunter. Listen to him snort! Tom was seized by a panic of fear and despair, and realized that his gun and marksmanship was his only hope. Could lie kill the moose? Would his bullet go through? He raised his rifle with all the steadiness he could command. He real- ized the situation and aimed right between those two great balls of fire. He leaped backwards, out of the course of the oncoming moose, but at the same instant the moose jumped high in the air and then fell dead, just a few feet from where Tom had shot. The bullet had gone through and the animal had used his last bit of life and now lay dead on the ground. Tom breathed a sigh of relief and gazed upon his prize, a full-grown moose. His heart leaped with joy. he had been triumphant in his last call, lie bled the animal and then took his last look, before going home, at the spoils of his first hunting trip. T hen he directed his steps to the trail and on down the trail towards home. At last, he came in sight of the lamp-light in the window of his own home and realized the truth- fulness 01 “Home. Sweet Home,” as he trudged on. tired and weary, but happy and triumphant. The Christmas Fellowship of ANGELA MARCHESE, ’20-B Miss Mab ITT Liv Miss Mab sat staring into the radiant heart of a wood fire. It lacked only two days of Christmas. She had not yet invited anyone to share the hospitality of her small home. Never since she had been left alone in the world—and that occurred when she was seventeen—had she known a lonely Christ- mas; there were always some forsaken crca- oires ready to turn gratefully the shelter of her home. Ail these festivities had brought a certain heart-warmth and happiness which lin- gered for months, but it had not meant fellow- ship or sympathy. “I believe I want a little bit of Christmas to myself this year.” Miss Mab whispered to her- self; “it’s sieh hard work, all the fixin’s! I do love to see the old women an’ the starved boys

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28 SOMERVILLE HIGH SCHOOL RADIATOR The Last Call EDGAR R. LYLE, ’19-ii T was a cold, snappy November morning, the trees stood like great images, leafless, but still stately, their tops swaying to and fro with the wind, which would every min- ute or two sweep the mountain- side. Everything was still and serene, the ground was frozen hard and the little brooklets, gushing here and there, possessed a thin sheet of ice. but would soon be thawed by the sun. just rising in its beacon red over the horizon. The birds were singing sweetly, as if they real- ized that everything was so beautiful and quiet. Now and again, a spry rabbit would bob out from under a bush, and scare from its posture a frog which would jump on the thin ice of a tiny rivulet, and then make a queer noise, as if in mockery to its tormentor. All this Tom lloyt took in from his position on the side of the mountain, where he stood in the middle of the trail, just out of sight of the small settlement below in the valley called Eairview. He saw plainly the majestic Bay of I'undy. now glisten- ing in the morning sunlight, and his heart was filled with unspeakable joy. He was very happy because of all this, but more so, because he held in his hand a brand new Winchester. He was off on his first hunt- ing trip alone, and possessed a gun that he could really call his own. He stood there, un- knowingly completing the beautiful picture, a boy nearly full-grown, with broad shoulders, athletic build, and a frank, open face. One could easily see that he was inured to the hardships of farming, for he had especially large hands; he wore the farmers’ slouch hat. and his general bearing was that of a boy who had al- ways followed a free and open-air mode of living. He turned and continued up the trail until he reached the top of the small mountain. Now and again he would pass a meadow, now fast growing with bushes and young trees, where men of the past generation had cleared a field and had built a staunch log cabin, lie kept on until he came to a large knoll, and reaching the top. saw just over the tree-tops below him. a small lake, whose beautiful blue waters just matched that of the cloudless sky. and harmonized perfectly with the spruce and fir trees vthich surrounded it on all sides, as far as the eye could see. He stood taking in his second experience of a beautiful scene. The young hunter then set off again, emerg- ing into the woods on the upper side of the lake. and took any course that chance brought in his way. making scarcely any noise, if at all. for he had on his feet a pair of moccasins, which lu- had bought the same time that he had purchased his gun. and he was skilled in woodcraft, be- cause ever since he was able to keep up to the pace of his father be had accompanied him on short hunting trips. After he had gone a short distance into the woods, always keeping near the edge of tlie lake, where brooks formed in- lets. he made a birchbark horn with his hunting knife, for he was about to call a moose. This lie had learned from his father and neighboring hunters, until he had become a “ven good hand at it.” according to an old and experienced hunter, named Jake Turner. He had never put his learning into practice, but he was willing to make a start, lie raised the horn to his lips and called the moose with such accuracy as is difficult to attain, and which so few hunters possess. Then he listened, lie wondered if there would be any responsi-. Would the sought game come? Hark! Was that a mighty bull, roaring and tearing through the woods and coming to his call? Alas! It was a flock of partridges, flying between the bushes nearby, which sounded like some large animal, just within hearing distance, coming at a great speed. He went on a few paces, and then called again, listening for a short time after he had called. Then he trudged another short distance, calling again, and repeated this at short intervals, listening after every call, until he had gone what seemed nearly five miles. 'fired, hungry and discouraged, this young hunter decided to rest and eat his lunch at the side of the next brook which he came acros . Soon he came upon that which he desired, and looked on its rippling waters with quiet content- ment. but he did not meditate long, for he was famished. He flung himself down on the soft moss beside the brook with a sigh of relief, and pulled out of his pocket the lunch which his mother, whom he loved so well, had prepared for him. He unwrapped it quickly and saw tie- dainty lunch with a large piece of marble cake with a thick chocolate frosting and three large walnuts on to]). Just what he liked best. Gee. that was “rippin’ good.” mother. He laid the lunch down on the moss, and lying flat on the ground, drank of the cold water in the brook. Then came that lunch. He “took at it like :• ravenous bear, and there was nothing left in a few minutes but that large, red bandanna hand-

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30 SOMERVILLE HIGH SCHOOL RADIATOR an’ girls fill themselves up. W'liat they want, though, is the catin’. They don’t know nothing about fellowship. When a woman steps over the forty line an' has been alone all her life, th- re’s a sort of longin’ for fellowship—ain’t there, Maltie?” ! he gray eat arched his back and rubbed his plump body against Miss Mali's dress. It’s a fine dinner.” observed Miss Mali in her solitary musing; it's a fine enough dinner to de- serve fellowship.” She rose and walked to the front window. I might jest as well out with it.” she said. “I know who I want to invite as well as can be; all that's troublin’ me is the propriety of it. Now, if the little thing hedn’t a father. I’d take her in and keep her—longer’n Christmas, too.” She was watching a six-year-old girl who lived in the boarding house across the street, which was thronged and lonesome.” as Miss Mali ex- pressed it. Every afternoon about five the child lingered on the steps and watched eagerly till a man turned the corner—a tall, round-should- ered. thin, sickiy-looking man. As soon as she caught sight of him she darted like a swallow down the street and fairly threw herself into bis arms. He always slung his lunch box on his v. rist and lifted her to his breast. They did not seem to talk. The head, with its brown curis, was laid contentedly on his shoulder and occa- sionally the father bent to rub his cheek against the child's pale face. He climbed the steps with the little girl in his arms and shut the door be- hind him. It's fellowship 1 want.” Miss Mab whispered; then she :it down to her lonely little tea table. At seven o’clock she put Maltie to his bed down cellar; afterward she dressed and started for prayer meeting. Two or three friends stopped to speak to her. They decided she was in an ab- sent mood, for she did not seem to know what they were talking about. Miss Mab had only one thought in her mind and it seemed to rhyme with the hymn: it mingled with the short dis- course and prayer. It seemed as if all the con- gregation lingered to talk with the minister after prayer meeting. At last everybody was gone but herself. The young clergyman came for- ward genially. Miss Mab told her little story and then said: T thought you’d tell me whether ’twould be proper or not?” “There can be no question of propriety. Miss Mab. he replied, earnestly. “In your kindness of heart you could make no mistake.” Miss Mab took his proffered hand warmly. “Thank you so much. she said. Next day she watched for the little girl, who did not appear until about half-past four, and then came out to hop nimbly up and down the flight of stone steps. Miss Mab bad a gracious way with children which readily reached their hearts. The shyness of the child disappeared while Miss Mab delivered a nervous invitation. “I’m sure we’ll come.” said the lit tie girl. She spoke gravely, but there was an eager light in her eyes. Papa and me was talking ’bout hrisinias last night, and wished we were back •n the country, where we used to live. We don’t know anybody here yet. ’cept boarding house folks. I’ve wanted so to know your kitty, but 1 didn’t dare come over.” ‘You dear little soul!” said Miss Mab kindly; “vou shan’t have any more lonesome days if I car. help it.” Miss Mab watched anxiously the meeting at the corner. The child did not nestle her head on her father’s shoulder, as was her custom; she was talking to him eagerly and pointing to the little brick house set in the midst of a wide gar- den. Miss Mab’s heart began to beat tumultu- ously when she saw the tall man come striding across the street through the snow. She threw the door open before he could knock, lie bowed courteously. My little girl has told me of your goodness.” he said. It is kind of you. very, very kind. I do not know how to thank, you. We shall be very happy to come. I do not mind the loneli- ness much for myself, but I hate to think of Cynthia left in that bare little room all day. while 1 am working ” Cynthia hung over her father’s shoulder delightedly, whispering in blissful friendliness to the big gray cat. “’Twas a bold thing to do. invitin’ strangers this way.” said Miss Mab; I didn’t say nothin’ ’bout the mother because ! didn’t just know”— she stopped hesitatingly. “Cvnthia’s mother died when she was three days old.” said the man. slowly: “I’m not quite as good as a mother would be. am I. dearest?” “Almost as good.” whispered the child, strok- ing the careworn face. “But we’re very happy together, aren’t we. Cynthia?” •he child nodded emphatically. “I cannot thank you cordially enough, madam, both for Cynthia and myself We will be delighted to come.” The child wave-1 good-night as they crossed the street and Miss Mab wiped her eyes furtively when she sal down in her big rocking chair. It is more blessed to give than to receive.” she said to herself; “somehow, it seems to bring such warm comfort into your life.” Many days have come and passed away by the time for the setting of the next scene. One night, Cynthia, tucked in a blanket, said to her father: “Don’t you love Miss Mab?” I do.” said he. in a low voice. “She’s just like a fairy godmother, isn’t she? I couldn’t have her for a really, truly godmother, could I?” she asked, anxiously. Continued on pa-jeW