Somerville High School - Radiator Yearbook (Somerville, MA)

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12 SOMERVILLE HIGH SCHOOL RADIATOR his gun from the place where he had dropped it around the corner of the cabin. “That was perfect. Bob. Sounded like a real tiger. I knew you’d perfect that call,” said Betty, stifling with laughter. And then, as she looked up, her hair suddenly rose, her eyes started from her head, her mouth gaped, her teeth chattered. She was all tension. She tried to call. Something seemed to clog her throat and prevent her from speaking. Not a muscle moved. She stood transfixed with fright, petrified, rooted to the spot. And then she seemed to have a vague thought that this was like one of those horrible dreams where, when you need most to run, you can only creep; when you need to shout, you can only whisper. And she gave a feeble laugh from sheer ner- vousness. For there on the edge of the clear- ing, with barred teeth and body crouched ready to spring, was a tiger. But he hesitated to jump—perhaps he was touched by the unpro- tectedness of the girl — or perhaps it was a more selfish motive — maybe he sensed danger. And then, he whirled around in the direction Swagger had disappeared. He gave a sudden spring, a shot sounded, and the tiger came sprawling down. Out stepped Swagger. “I said I’d get pelts if only for the reason your dad said not to. Look at me! Thank me for saving your life.” For all this boastfulness, Betty knew, and Alvan knew that she knew, that he had fired to save his own life, and had not intended to fire to save hers. Alvan was base enough, cow- ard enough to do so. Three months later, the hot sun shone down upon a caravan — this time of dromedaries. The scene too, had changed from the damp jungle to the dry desert. Betty and Bob were seated comfortably on a sheltered litter on a camel and between them was Leopold, the tiger. “Leopold is very tame now. Everyone but Alvan is friendly to him. Alvan takes care to keep out of his way. I’m glad Dad let me keep him. He’s healed perfectly now. The wound was only slight.” A silence ensued. “Oh, Betty, our band has enough jewels to tempt a dozen Swaggers. Maybe it was mean to take them from the natives of that town where we returned the elephants, and give them cheap beads instead. But they demanded the beads and didn’t want the jewels.” There was a silence, then Betty said: “We’ll be in Algeria in two weeks or so. We’re in the heart of the desert now.” “I’m thirsty. I’ll get some water for you and me.” “Strange.” He took another cask and another, and then opened them all, with the same result. “Dad,” he called. His father stopped his camel, and waited for Bob to reach him. “What is it, son?” “Dad, there’s no more water left!” “What?” thundered Mr. Evans. “No more water.” “Halt,” he yelled to his companions, “come here.” Mr. Evans told them the news quickly. The next day came. And with it — torture. Thirst parched their Jhroats. Water, water! Their eyes grew strained from their sockets. The next day came. The expeditioners never once left their seats for fear that, once out, the weakened condition of their legs would cause them to stumble, never to rise again. Then they could eat no more. Thirst and star- vation. The mirages. Lakes of water, cities, people — all mirages. Water, water! And then, on the third day, Alvan stepped out, flourishing one huge leather bag. “Friends, here is water. One by one, you shall drink.” A tremendous applause went up. “Leopold is first.” He stooped and put some in a pan, then stepped off a distance. The tiger leaped forward, and began to lap at it. And then, he suddenly knocked it over. With a tre- (Continued on Page 23)

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SOMERVILLE HIGH SCHOOL RADIATOR 11 Nevertheless, the man who concentrates deeply on problems of engineering and the like is of- ten the possessor of a prematurely old face. There is nothing like privation in one way or another, however, to bring on wrinkles. This causes the well-known remark: “How old she looks.” Yet the object of the criticism may be a person who is young in body and mind. Just as a dominating personality may lead the mob, so may a face be of the greatest im- portance in associating with people. If, for example, you are applying for a job, and you have a clean, smiling face, your chances are many times better than they would be if your features were drawn into a frown. A smiling, pleasant face is a valuable asset even if on.. has no claim to beauty. I do not mean by this that beauty is not to be desired, but merely that if you keep a smile on your face and by so doing reflect an amiable disposition, you are bound to make a good impression on those with whom you come in contact. ADVENTURES OF A CARAVAN By Julia Saparoflf, 32 THE caravan wended its way through the jungle. It consisted of four huge ele- phants carrying equipment, and five ethers which carried on their backs large litters that could each easily seat five people. The seats were all deserted except one which was occupied by a sullen, fierce-looking man. He was of medium height and powerful build. He had even features, a bushy mustache, heavy eyebrows, black eyes, and straight black hair. He was gazing at twenty-five persons exploring the ground. They were adapting their pace to the elephants’ leisurely walk. He regarded them all with hatred, but every time he looked at four side by side, he frowned dreadfully. The four especial objects of his wrath were a lithe girl, a tall boy, her brother, a still taller man, the father, and a third man, Norman Luce. After quite a long time, a cry arose, and the caravan came to a stop in a large clearing. “We stop here for a couple of days. We need the rest after this week’s hard traveling,” an- nounced the father, Mr. Evans, who was in charge. Immediately, everyone except our sullen ac- quaintance set to work to erect two cabins — one for general use, the other for the exclu- sive use of the Evanses. When they had been made, the elephants were fed and corralled. After all the work had been completed, the boy crossed to his sister, and, flinging himself down beside her in front of their cabin, exclaimed, “Gee, it’s hot, Betty.” “I know, Bob. It must be 110.” “Too bad Norman Luce had to get lost. And in such a place. He would!” “Well, he’s a—what you call a—a naturalist. He wanted to collect information about the jungle life—” “Information — bah!” interrupted her brother. “The fact is that, on his account, here we are a couple of thousand miles from nowhere.” “From Algeria,” corrected Betty. “Oh, well! Only four hundred miles (making ten a day) from that little town where we pur- chased the elephants. We might be at home—” “Well, he’s found, and we’re almost safe.” “Safe! Did my ears deceive me? Safe in a jungle! For safety, all animals should be killed. ’Sides Dad is far too gentle, forbidding any beasts to be killed except in absolute neces- sity. You didn’t feel so very safe when those horrible shrieks of rage from the negroes were heard.” “Just because we were sitting on a heathen god, a Sphinx,” laughed Betty. “Such a sacrilege! It was lucky for us they worshipped it for an hour, during which time no one could be captured or killed. Norman was among them as friendly as could be. But he escaped with us.” “There’s Norman’s foster-brother, Alvan Swagger. You might know they weren’t real relatives. He hates Norman ’cause they both got an equal share of the parent’s fortune. Alvan wanted the lion’s share. He hates us because we favor Norman, and also because he tried to steal our valuables, and was prevented. I don’t like him. Oh, Bob. Are you going?” “Must. Work to do. Bye.” He walked across the clearing into the other cabin. No one was in sight except “the man who always had the sulks.” Alvan passed with the agreeable remark: “Tell your dad I’m going to kill all animals I see. I want pelts and money.” Just then the howl of a tiger came from the jungle. He turned pale and hastened off to pick up

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SOMERVILLE JIICII SCHOOL RADIATOR 13 NEW AND OLD By Gertrude Ferrara, ’3l Make new friends, but keep the old, Those are silver, these are gold; New-made friendships, like new wine, Age will mellow and refine; Friendships that have stood the test — Time and change — are surely best; Brow may wrinkle, hair grow gray, Friendship never knows decay. For ’mid old friends tried and true, Once more we our youth renew. But old friends, alas! may die, New friends must their place supply. Cherish friendship in your breast, New is good, but old is best. Make new friends, but keep the old, Those are silver, these are gold. THE FABLE OF EVILMURO DACH In days of Evilmuro dach, when death was quite the thing, Many famous fathers by their sons were slain. Evilmuro dach had a son who some day would be king, But this son his father slew, and only left a bloody stain. He grasped the royal carcass and then unsheathed his sword, There popped into his cruel mind a ghastly scheme and horrid. Three hundred times he diced it and laughed the while with glee, And fed it to three hundred vultures that roosted in a tree. Evilmuro dach, Jr., A. D.,—110 Valarius. DAWN By Betty Tasker, ’33 Alone I watched the coming dawn, The sun heralding a new day born, The mountain tops blush a rosy hue, The sky looked down a pale clear blue. The dew was sparkling at my feet, The clover bloomed so fresh and sweet, The brook, too, awoke its song to sing, The glorious sun roused every thing. SUNSET By Olga Martini, 31 I saw from my seat on the window-sill The setting sun o’er the blue-grey hill Painting the sky a beautiful hue, Pink and yellow and gold and blue. The graceful poplars bent and swayed. The merry breezes laughed and played, As sleepy sunbeams flew around, Giving the forest a rainbow crown. Pink clouds sailed the deep-blue sky, Kissing the tree-tops as they rolled by. Ah, mellow rays of the setting sun, I watched for you when day is done, Behind the western hills you go, Until your beauty can not show. You exit with the sky ablaze, Leaving behind you a violet haze. AUTUMN By Anita Rice, ’31 Autumn, when the leaves are red And the air has a tang of its own, When the sky is a sapphire blue overhead And the lazy summer has flown. Then all nature seems to wake And to dress in its brightest array, The sun shines down on the hills and lakes Flaming with colors gay. Some people cite the pleasures Of winters, summers, springs, Ignoring all the treasures That only autumn brings. SATIRE I “—cum te neque fervidus alstus Demoveat luero, neque hiemo, ignis, mare ferrum.” Nor sultry summer, winter, fire, sea nor sword Can drive you from the mad pursuit of gain. But the industrious ant that all the year doth hoard Desists and rests when comes Aquarius, the rain. —Horace. THE TRAIL TO KNOWLEDGE By David K. Young, ’33 On to the road, there is no time to shirk, There must be reward for those who work. Each man seeks his greatest art; Up the long hill I must start To the trail where College is calling.