Summit School - Flame Yearbook (St Paul, MN)

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Lauren Bacall acts either, but you can't hate a person for that! . . . Oh, but she's taller than Ianie, at least four inches . . f' From downstairs: Ieaniel From upstairs: lust a minute, Mom . . . Barbie, that was Mother. How she loves to talk, ha! ha! . . From downstairs: Ieanie! From upstairs: Oh, are you calling me, Daddy? What do you want? From downstairs: Will you ple-ase get off that phone? From upstairs: Yes, Daddy. Barbie, that's . . . Yes, Daddy . . . Good-byef, From the receiver: Bang! PHYLL1s Poarlan Form V THE C0-OPERATIVE PARTRIDGE WAS nine years old and very excited. This was the first time I had ever been taken hunting. My father, mother, and older brother were with me, and we had started out on the first day with high hopes. We walked along the path that led to an inland cabin where we were going to have lunch. I was being very careful, carrying my empty .22 as if it were loaded. Suddenly someone saw a partridge. It was standing very still trying to blend in with the back- ground and hoping we wouldn't see it. Remembering that I was the youngest, and that I probably wouldn't get another chance like this, my father told me to shoot it. If I missed, my mother would get it before it flew away. By this time the partridge realized that we hadn't overlooked him, and he was trying to walk away unnoticed. I fumbled as I loaded my rifle with small dust shot, closed one eye, and prepared to aim. I wondered why I couldn't line up the sights until I realized that I had closed the wrong eye. As quickly as possible, I changed and aimed once more. This time I trembled as I started to pull the trigger. I waited for the loud shot I knew would come, but nothing happened, and I wondered why. What,s the matter? my mother called. I don't know. It just won't shoot, I answered. Maybe your gun's on safe. I looked, and sure enough it was. If the partridge knew what waslhappening he probably would have taken this time to escape, but he was very co-operative and waited until I was all ready. Little did the poor bird know that he was supposed to be drawing his last breath as I raised my gun and again aimed. When, after pulling the trigger for the second time, I heard nothing but a click, I knew that I had not cocked the gun. This meant that there was no bullet in the chamber ready to be Fired. Now, I thought, I am ready. If the gun doesnlt go off this time, I will just give up. For the third and last time, I carefully raised the gun to my shoulder and pulled the trigger. As I raced over to the ruffled mass of feathers on the ground, I saw that my first shot had gone straight through his eye. I carried him triumphantly into the cabin. The first day was a success. ELIZABETH SLADE Form II THE FLAME 27