University of Santa Clara - Redwood Yearbook (Santa Clara, CA)

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THE REDWOOD a petition for his pardon sent to the governor. When they came to Blank and told him of their plans, he merely shook his head. ' I cannot go with you, he said, ' ' I go back to prison. These guards, though they are not prison guards, will have to take me back. I have made my sacrifice, and I am satisfied. ®I|? lugb Reveille : Waken ! Do you hear tKe bugle call ? Nov ? the silvery notes are rising, now they fall. Waken soldier, ' tis tKe morning ; Harken soldier, heed the warning ; Rise in strength and cast aside the Nation ' s pall. Taps : Rest ! O soldier, thou has heard thy Nation ' s call ; Rest thou, sleeping sweetly ' neath the Nation ' s pall. Sleep, O soldier, we have bound you With the stars and stripes around you. Sleep ! O rest, and hear no more the bugle call. ED. M. SCRIBNER

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8 THE REDWOOD audible whisper. I could not have the death of innocent persons upon my soul, and my country, even though she has scorned me, and has put the badge of disgrace on me, has the right to my poor help. My cowardice and selfish- ness though it might save me, might also mean the ruination of my country. I do not know what things have been happening, but from the rumors that have floated into prison, I know that grave danger threatens our country. What can I do? Tormented by his thoughts, and wav- ering between one extreme and the oth- er, Blank sat upon the rail, exhausted in body and in spirit. Allowing his hand to drop from his heated forehead to his side, it came into contact with a cold clammy object. Frightened by the sensation, he hastily recoiled. For the moment he was nonplussed. Gath- ering courage, he cautiously felt for the object, and was relieved to find noth- ing immediately dangerous about it. Examining it more closely, he found the same two wires leading to it that he had found coming from the box. ' ' It is the rest of the infernal ma- chine, he thought, ' ' and the danger- ous part of it. Now, what shall I do? Leave this thing here for the next train to hit, or shall I give up my chance of liberty? Ah, better it is for me to give up my liberty, than my country suf- fer! But what is that noise? A train? My God! I won ' t have time to discon- nect this, the train is too near. Stumbling, and falling in his rapid run towards the opening of the tunnel, Blank did not have time to think over the wisdom of his decision. The one thought that now pervaded his mind was the safety of the train. Nearer and nearer, through the tunnel ' s mouth, he saw it approach. As he ad- vanced into the light, disheveled, un- kempt and dirty, running as from a nightmare, he heard a sharp command. Halt! was what he heard, and im- mediatley two men stepped in front of him. Don ' t stop me, he cried. Stop the train! There ' s a bomb in the tun- nel! The words provoked instant action from the men. With wild waving of hats and rifles, the train was halted but a few feet from the tunnel. Who are you? demanded the man who first spoke. I am nothing but an escaped con- vict, willing to give up his freedom for his country and now I am ready to go back to prison. Take me away. Sorry, but I am not a prison guard, but a railroad guard. I ' ll have to in- vestigate your story first, and if that ' s true, why, I guess the rest of it is too. After a few minutes investigation, the truth of Blank ' s story was substan- tiated. By this time the people in the train had learned why the train was delayed, and of the convict ' s sacrifice. It was agreed among them that the convict should be taken with them and

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umptuljfrf in xmti The battle breaks to-morrow So I thought I ' d seize my chance f Of penning a line to someone Whose heart is somewhere in France. I know I am presumptuous, But mayhap I have good cause — For drowning of homeland longing One clings to homeland straws. And I ' m sure that you remember That eve that we said good-bye — Bound with clouds the sun lay drowning In a seething sea of sky. Lighting the cliffs about us With his last faint, feeble smile. Lighting those bastioned ledges And your own sweet hair the while ; That hair in its brown bright luster Spun from moonbeams seems, And your sweet eyes darkling dimpled Somehow divining my dreams. For I saw in my mind on the morrow Grey ships on the salt grey foam. And I vowed that I ' d remember Your laughter in thunder at Somme. 10