University School of Milwaukee - Trident Yearbook (Milwaukee, WI)

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Ten THE ACADEMY The Boundary Line. Day was drawing on in the little Mexi- can town of Ojinaga. Not day, as we in the United States speak of it, the day that comes with the rising of the sun, but quite the reverse ; day that comes with the sinking into the bluish, purple, Tuxham hills, of the great ball of fire that a few hours before scorched and burned all in its path. Ojinaga ever was a meagre excuse for a town. It boasted of only one great advantage: it was only four hours jour- ney, by the bus, from Tia Juana. For surely no one would boast of a location, set low in the surrounding hills where hardly a breath of air stirred, year in and year out ; a place with no water sup- ply except three or four wells and no drainage but a weary little stream which became only a scar on the land during the hottest season. There was but one street, crooked and unattractive, but still a street. At the upper end was the resi- dential district. Few people dwelt here and only the rambling palacio, where Don Blanquet had once resided, marked it as the district of the better homes. Tov ards the other end of the street, near the foul smelling stream, were stores and cafes and saloons. Each lit- tle, dilapidated building had its white- washed false front. In the shade of these buildings, or behind sheltering bill- boards, telling of past or coming bull fights, were built the squatty adobe houses of the peons. The houses, and, the swarthy dwellers as well, were piti- ful reflections of poverty. No one knew and no one cared how his neighbor ex- isted. If one lived by stealing and did not get caught, well and good. If one lived by gambling or cheating his neigh- bor at cards he was held clever. If one cheated at cards with you however, his life was yours. And many were the brawls in which the flashing stillettos sent the painted, half-cast women scurry- ing in fear for their lives. And follow- ing each drunken fracas the rising sun would witness one or more new addition to the little uncharted grave yard, wait- ing to receive the victims of such affairs. It was five o ' clock in the afternoon and people began to venture into the street. Day was beginning. When the sun gets low in Ojinaga it becomes ever so slightly cooler and there seems to be fewer flies and gnats in the air. Life in the town begins each day at this hour and lasts far into the night. The saloons and cafes open up their doors. Each little restaurant has its piano, with the boards taken off, it ' s twanging banjo and screeching saxaphone; and each place has its dancing girls, some of Spanish blood, some American women, but for the most part half Spanish, half Indian, painted and rouged women of the streets whose paramount passions are hilarity and pulque. In the midst of this flotsam and jet- sam of humanity lived Juana Robledo and her little consumptive brother, Ra- mon, the children of gentle folk. The death of their parents had only served to bring them closer together, even though Juana, scarcely more than a child, had to work as kitchen girl in a little cafe to earn pennies for bread. True, she might have made more had she dared to act as waitress or dancing girl, but in the back of the cafe it was safe, not so in front. Juana and Ramon were fairly happy. (Juana ' s black eyes were always smiling when she was with her brother. If only he would get better, if only they could afford to move north into the hills of the Estados Unidos, all would be perfect. Came this dawn of day and the dilapi- dated screen door of the kitchen wherein Juana was busy, noislessly opened and the lithe figure of a boy entered, crept up behind and tenderly covered her eyes with his hands. Julio! Juanita, lover, he whispered. You have been longer than usual, and she questioned him with her black eyes. I know. But look, I bring home more than usual, Julio said, boyishly display- ing the coppers earned as jockey on the track at Tia Juana. The girl ' s eyes became sad. Each time he came back glowing with hope

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A Study. The night was bitter cold. Slowly the moon rose, shedding its cold, bright light on the little clearing in the pines. The white snow reflecting the moonlight gave a ghostly appearance to the lonely, desolate spot. The wind from the hills to the north whistled thru the pine trees. The snapping of twigs made more appar- ent the intensity of the cold. From time to time the shrill cry of some animal pierced the blanket of oppressive still- ness. Suddenly, from the shadow of the trees, a figure emerged. It moved slowly, as if heavily burdened, looking neither to the right nor to the left. The moon- light revealed the figure to be a man, a trapper with his furs on his back. Under his huge bundle the man ' s steps faltered. Reaching the center of the clearing he stopped, removed his burden, and looked about. The mournful hoot, of an owl nearby, sounded, followed by the sighing of the wind. The man shouldered his pack and moved on again. On into the shadows ; his heavy boots creaked and resounded on the frozen snow. Arriving at the top of a long hill he stopped again. Down before him, at the bottom of the hill, stretched a large lake, nestled in between the hills. The clear, wind-swept ice reflected like a mir- ror the neighboring hills, and woodland patches on their sides. He stood still for a moment looking at the lake of glass below him, then started slowlv down the hill. The man came to a cedar lowland where logs and branches lay partly hid- den in the snow. Suddenlj ' he stumbled, lost his balance, and fell heavily with one leg beneath him. For some time he lay motionless, apparently without life, then stirred and tried to move. He tried to move the leg that had doubled under him and did not give up the pain- ful attempts until both legs were stretched out in front of him. A friend- ly tree nearby afforded a rest for his back. The man looked ahead, a cold, hard gleam in his eye. Silently he sat gazing ahead. Then gradually the gleam in his eye softened and became almost kindly; his whole body seemed to relax. He relieved himself of his heavy knap- sack, and, as if preparing himself for something, settled into a more comfort- able position. He took a pipe from his pocket, filled and lighted it. A faint smile played about his mouth and into his eyes came a far away look. He seemed to be dreaming of other lands. Slowly the shadows lengthened. Silently, one by one, the snowflakes be- gan to fall. The cold grew more bitter. In the distance an owl hooted, then all was silent. ■ — A. Gonser.

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THE ACADEMY Eleven and pride at what be brought. For had not Juana promised to marry him, Julio, when together they had saved enough to move, leaving the heat and stench and squalor of Ojinaga? Enough to go where little Ramon might have treatment under American doctors. She loved Julio truly but she saw how slowly the money came in and she knew that it would be years and vears before they could save the needed sum. She realized this, but big- hearted, unselfish Julio did not and his irrepressible joy and hope made her sad. And how is little brother? Julio asked. Together, hand in hand, they ran toward Ramon ' s shaded cot. He saw them coming and the tightly drawn skin of his face grew more taut as he grinned from ear to ear. For he loved Julio as a brother. So the three lived on ; Ramon grad- ually becoming weaker and weaker, Juana working with all the strength in iier little body and cheering her little brother between tears of discouragement and bodily fatigue, and Julio, ever pa- tient, working day and night to increase their little capital. Then one day, just before the hot sea- son w hich they all dreaded, the horse that Julio rode won. It was a big race, the last one of the season, and men had placed much money on it. The owner of the horse, in a burst of generosity, gave Julio a huge sum of money, more than Julio had ever dreamed of in his wildest dreams. How slowly the bus to Ojinaga drove that day ! Clutching his treasure, Julio planned every step of the journey they could now take, planned the cottage he would build, with the screened porch for Ramon. He wondered how much of his wealth it would take to start a little busi- ness and how long it would be before Ramon was well and strong and old enough to join him as a partner. Juana should never again be compelled to do any work, but just walk about their lit- tle home and garden, making everything bright with her presence. Oh, the dreams he dreamed and the things he planned on the homeward drive that day ! They would leave Ojinaga at once. How- happy the three of them would be ! It seemed to the anxious heart of Julio that he never would arrive at Ojinaga, but after what seemed days of travel through the dust and heat, the bus drew up in the little town. Joyously he jumped to the ground and fairly rushed to the home of Juana. She stood, waiting in the doorway, quiet, a sad and solemn figure. Julio stopped. What did all the strange silence mean ? Juana and Julio have left the hated Ojinaga. But each year, just at the be- ginning of the hot season they come back. Hand in hand, they may be seen walking towards the little gravevard, and they visit a little grave with the simple inscription, Ramon. The Mexican air, grim reaper, had had its wav. W. H. S.