Somerville High School - Radiator Yearbook (Somerville, MA)

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8 SOMERVILLE HIGH SCHOOL RADIATOR cat scooted off as fast as his feet could carry him. Mrs. White at once sensed the situation, but not so with Mr. White, who was staring with expectant eyes, awaiting the burglar's appearance. He was sure that his wife had gone out of her senses when he heard her laughing and of course she had to set his mind aright, after which they re- tired once again. In the morning the twins at once began a con- fused tale of the burglar while at their breakfast. “Yes, and he must have been hungry ’cause he went in the pantry and broke the dishes,” said Patty. “Ah! that explains the missing steak and the broken dishes,” said Mrs. White laughing, and she amused the children with the story of the burglar who had broken into their home. The Tune of the Whistling Buoy KUTH BOOTHBY, 1919-A, HROUGH the stillness of the night came the long, shrill, weird tone, which sounded like the cry of the eagle as it swoops down upon its prey. A little boy of ten years was seated at the window in the garret of his house wondering what that strange noise could be. Outside a severe gale was blowing, and the rain was beating against his window pane, sounding as if each drop would break it. Not far from his home was the ocean’s edge, and jutting out into the water was one of the most dangerous points for miles along the sea-coast. He had not had the opportunity to visit this part of the coast very often, because his mother was very careful to keep her eye on him so that he could not get away from the house without her knowing in which direction he went. Up to the present time she had not told him that the merciless sea had taken away her beloved husband. She was waiting for the time to come when he should be old enough to understand what she would tell him. At the same time she was hoping that he would not get the notion into his head that he wanted to be a sea-captain or pilot for vessels as her husband had been. This was the reason why she was so careful about her boy whom she loved most dearly, and with whom she would not part for all the world. All night long the storm raged and in the morn- ing the clouds cleared from the sky and the sun appeared above the horizon heating up the land, and bringing cheer into the homes of those who were old enough to know what peril a storm such as the night before brought with it. The first sign of life in this “by-the-sea” home was little Billy, who came running downstairs to ask his mother about that terrible whistling he had heard in the night. His mother would answer him simply by saving that the sound which he had heard was The tune of the whistling buoy.” Years passed by, and little Billy was now a man. alone in the world, having lost his dear mother a few years before, but still remembering what his mother had told him about the merciless sea. One day, while he was wandering by the sea, a tall, rugged man stopped him, asking if he were ac- quainted with the shoreline. Billy answered with a smile that he had lived by the sea all his life, but until recently he had never had an opportunity to become acquainted with the shore. The stranger was intending to establish life- saving stations along the coast in this neighbor- hood, and thought Billy would be just the man to place in charge of them. Billy was very pleased, and when the stations were built, he took his new position. Everything went on smoothly, and Billy was proving to be an excellent seaman, when one night, a fierce storm came up, and two great coal schooners were wrecked. On account of Billy’s skillfulness in ordering and managing the boats that were sent out, no lives were lost, and great honor was shown Billy. He was the hero of the wreck. This led him to believe that he would like to be a sea captain. Therefore he resigned his posi- tion at the life saving station, to the sorrow of his companions, and became a great sea-captain. He now thought a great deal of his dear mother, and how she tried to keep him from the sea. He looked back and understood everything now, and he learned the “tune of the whistling buoy.”

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SOMERVILLE HIGH SCHOOL RADIATOR 7 noise was decidedly that of stealthy footsteps. They were much louder and plainer now than before, and by this time Ollie was so frightened that she got hold of Patty around the neck as if her life depended upon it, and cried softly. ‘It’s you’re fault that the burglar got in,” she whimpered, “you should have closed the win- dows.” No, it ain’t either, it’s yours,” retorted Patty. But here a crash of dishes was heard, at which the twins gave a loud yell, and drew the blankets over their heads and presently fell asleep, hud- dled close together. About 11 o’clock, Mr. and Mrs. White re- turned from their long walk. Mrs. White no- ticed the open windows and decided to let them stay. As was her custom she made a tour of the children’s bedrooms to see that they were all right. When she came to Patricia’s and Olive’s room and saw them sleeping, she said, “The darl- ings, how they love each other,” and after kiss- ing them, retired for the night. A half hour or so passed. Mr. White, fatigued from the day’s work and the walk, was now sleep- ing peacefully, but his wife was lightly dozing. Suddenly she gave a start, sat up in bed and strained her ears. Yes, there was no mistake about it, there was some one down stairs, she was posi- tive she could hear stealthy footsteps. She turned to her husband. “Henry,” she said, “Henry.” No answer from the sleeping man. “Henry,” she called again, and she shook him at the same time at which he awoke. “What’s the matter, Esther, aren’t you feeling well?” he asked gruffly. “I’m all right, but you listen; there’s some one down stairs.” “1 think you’ll have to take something for your nerves. You’ve been quite nervous lately, and—” “You never mind my nerves. I say there’s some one down stairs. You just listen. He listened and he, too, heard, and knew his wife was right (an unpleasant characteristic of hers). Whoever he was he was approaching the dining room where the silver was kept. “Henry, we must do something.” “Well, I haven’t any weapon of any descrip- tion, so what can we do? Anyway, he can’t take so very much,” came the peeved reply. “We’ve got to do something,” insisted the per- sistent Mrs. White. “Now you just go behind the attic door and get the mop which 1 use to clean the cobwebs out of the ceiling, and get the little kerosene lamp, light it, and then we’ll see what we can do.” Her husband did as he was told and returned in a few moments with the required articles. “Now you take the mop, and I’ll take the lamp and we’ll go downstairs,” said his wife. “No,” he replied frightened, “you take the mop and I’ll take the lamp.” “Let it so be,” she assured, and she noticed that before he proceeded on the adventure, he drew forth a pen-knife. “What are you going to do with that?” she questioned. “Oh, it might help in case of emergency.” Down the stairs they started, walking on tip- toes. They were half way down when the foot- steps began approaching the hall door through which they would have to pass to gain entrance to the rooms. Now they were surely trapped, and Mr. White, shaking in every limb, started to trot up the stairs again, now that they were near the crisis. But the determined Mrs. White was de- cided not to turn back without showing the in- truder some resistance, so Mr. White had to re- sume his post of lighting the pathway. The sounds receded to the dining-room again so now Mrs. White opened the door cautiously, and seeing no one in sight entered, followed by her meek husband. “We’d better be careful,” whispered Mr. White, “maybe he’s hiding somewhere.” Through the kitchen they walked, Mrs. White holding the mop high ready to strike as soon as she saw the disturber. “Come on back,” her husband again whispered, “I don’t see anyone.” But just then sounds of scratching were heard in the parlor. Mr. White went quickly into the parlor, but seeing no one, bravely cried: “Whoever is in here had better get out, and quickly at that.” No one moved. Mr. White went as far as the dining-room door, but did not dare to go further. “Henry, can’t you keep that lamp still, and come nearer,” she said, in an irritated whisper. As she was talking and turned toward her hus- band she felt something brush by her. Down came the mop and as it struck an agonized yell of Meow-wow-wow pealed forth, and the injured

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SOMERVILLE HIGH SCHOOL RADIATOR 9 The First Test of the Khaki MURIEL WARDROBE. CLASS 1919-A. Room 305 OBERT ATKINS, resplendent in his new suit of khaki, the kind we like to see on young men nowadays, was walking down Main Street; his well- shaped head crowning a tall soldierly figure. He was a fair, rollicking boy, that any mother might be proud to call her son. But the pity was that Bob’s mother had only lived long enough to see her boy wear a little khaki cow-boy suit, and even that had thrilled her with pride. Robert Atkins senior had to be both mother and dad to his soldier son. As we were saying, Robert junior was walking- down Main Street. It was a great day in the old town. The boys were to leave for Plattsburg, and all the town had turned out to bid them a tearful farewell. Bob looked at his watch, it lacked ten minutes of one and the parade was due to start at two. He had more than an hour to roam through his favorite haunts and bid his dearest friends good bye. But fate decreed otherwise. When he passed ‘‘Old Faithful,” as they called a large oak tree which stood at the beginning of a little stretch of woods like a sentinel guarding the smaller trees from any possible harm, he heard muffled voices. Two men were deep in conversation, they were behind a clump of bushes so that Bob could not see them; he would not have stopped had he not chanced to hear a phrase of their conversa- tion, “when you throw it be sure—” but here an automobile passed by and Bob lost the rest of the sentence. He waited, but the two men hav- ing completed their plans came out of the bushes and walked down the road, not noticing our hero at all. Robert Atkins, born adventurer that he was, scented trouble and resolved to follow these men They led him a long way, until they came to a fork in the road, then in lieu of formal fare- well the older man said to the younger, “Be care- ful.” Those two words were the clue to Robert, who felt sure that the younger man was the one who was going to commit the deed, as the older had warned him to be careful; therefore, Bob fol- lowed the younger man. This time he did not have as far to go. When the young man reached a tumbled down shack he hurried in not stopping to look around him. Bon had been very fortunate so far in not being seen by the two plotters and continued to keep care- fully out of view. He went around to the back of the shack and cautiously peered into the win- dow. The sight was enough to frighten even an older and braver man than Bob, and his knees shook as he glued his eyes to the pane. What he saw was a large room full of wires, ropes, boxes, and tools, which alone were not very dangerous, but on a table, over which bent the young man, was a round, evil looking object which, of course, Bob recognized at once. The young man had taken a box and was extracting from it another one of these awful balls. He carefully put it to his ear and shook his head eagerly as if anxious to begin his deadly work. Bob sensed the plot immediately. There was to be a great company to bid farewell to the soldiers. Marching with them would be General Edwards, the General of all the North Eastern army. These men were spies and had resolved to kill the General and a good part of the regi- ment. Robert carefully planned what he should do; he was very glad he had worn his suit as he had his revolver in his pocket; he determined to go to the front door and await the man’s exit. Then he would order him to put back the bombs and take him to the General. He hurried to the front of the building and held his revolver in position: in a few minutes he heard footsteps and a second later, “Put down those things this in- stant or you will be shot!” he said in a calm, even tone. The man jumped and turned pale under the keen gaze of Bob, but he set the box gingerly on the ground. “Now put up your hands and walk before me,” ordered Bob. The fellow could only obey and he did with the cold circle of steel pressed against his back. Thus they walked in silence until they reached the edge of the wood. Here the young man’s nerve left him and he cried in an imploring voice, “Let me go boss, for the love of heaven, let me go!” But Bob had no idea of letting him escape so ordered him to keep straight on. On they went, up a back street which was quite deserted, the residents all being on the Main