Upper Arlington High School - Norwester Yearbook (Upper Arlington, OH)

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ARLINGTON ANNUAL 21 MY SPANISH FLOWER “We leave at 2 o’clock. Sir,’ announced my servant. Two o’clock found me on board the Majestic for my tour around the world. 1 had reached my twenty-second birthday and father had given me the present of a worldwide trip. As luck would have it, I was not seasick and so took every advantage of exploring the ship. One morning when I was strolling leisurely along the deck I bumped into my old college friend Bob. This cheered me up some as I had become downhearted and lonely. ’Well, old pal,’ he said, Tve got some friends I want you to meet.” I expected to meet some fellows, but. to my surprise, they were of the opposite sex. Women! Every time I see them I run or dodge into any possible enclosure. Well. I survived the introduction and after apologizing and making a fool of myself 1 managed to escape. It was evening. 1 had fled from the dance hall into the cool, bracing night air. Strolling to the farther end I leaned against a post and surveyed the scene before me. It was a beautiful June night and the stars above were gleaming forth in all their splendor. The moon masquerading as the sun was clothed in the height of all its glory. I he sound ol sweet music came to me. a guitar and a woman’s voice singing in Spanish. I rans-lating the words into English as best I could. I found it to be a song of home. A feeling of romance crept upon me and the blood rushed madly through my veins. Never before had 1 been so impressed by music. Letting my curiosity get the better of me, I turned slowly around, and saw on the steerage deck, a beautiful Spanish girl. Her long black hair was streaming over her sho u I d e r s and the moon made a golden tint there. Her slender arms and graceful fingers daintily picked the strings of the guitar. Slowly she turned her face upward and I could plainly see her profile against the sky. Suddenly, from the crowd of sleepy foreigners, a young boy jumped up and called for a dance. Giving him the guitar, she sprung forth in a giddy whirl. I wirling dizzily this way. then that, she suddenly paused in a graceful pose. Never before, I thought, had I seen anyone so graceful or lithe as she. There was not that haughty, self-satisfied pose about her that 1 had noticed in other women. She was herself, displaying her own true nature, and I placed her on a pedestal far above the women ol my class. The next time and the last time I saw my Spanish flower was when we docked at England. I caught a glimpse of scarlet and a tint ol jet black hair. That was all. She too had mixed with the weary throng. Evelyn Fenton.

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20 ARLINGTON ANNUAL First Grade Fourth Grade Carl Ahlroth. 2. Junior Barnhart. 7. Barbara Brownfield, 2. Elizabeth Clark. 7. Perry King Clark, 4. Florence Evans. David l olkerth, I. Bert Hayhurst, 5. Ann Jay, 7. Robert Kyle, 7. Jane Lentz, 2. Thelma Lyons, 2. Martha Louise McKinney, 7. Dorothy Ann Miller, 2. Jean Ogden, 6. Marianne Randall, 7, Dorothy Sawyer, 7. Homer Sayers, 2. Arlene Seiller, 2. Howard Smith, 7. Robert Thomas, 7. Lois Jeannette Wuichet, 2. Carolyn Huddleson. 5. Second Grade Margaret Brown. 7. Georgia Lyons. 5. Arlene Tripp, 7. Third Grade Robert Coe, 7. Audrey Evans, I. Louie Hughes. 4. Bobby Kern, 6. Dick Moffett, 3. Billy Randall. 7. Emory Sawyer, I. Norris I lavhurst, 3. Mildred Hill. 5. Betty Hucksoll, 5. Betty Mattoon. 3. Virginia Minshall. 4. Lila Gene Sherritt, 5. lack Smith. 7. Betty Rose Williams. 7. Earl Clark, 2. Eileen Payne. 2. Justin Folkerth, 5. Dorothy Tripp, 2. Fifth Grade Lyman Brownfield, 6. Vera Louise Lentz. 6. Marian Minshall. 3. Sixth Grade Jane Ames, 5. Jean Pontius, 3. Katherine Readi ng, 8. Seventh Wuichet, John, 5. Ames, Marybee, 2. Benbow, Ellen, 7. Harrop, Dorothy, I. Marjorie Smith, I. Joseph 1 homas, 8. John Tritsch, I. Grade Milligan, Olive, 2. Rardin, Marcella, 7. Sawyer, Cornelia. 6. Zartman, Anne, 5. Eighth Grade Warren Armstrong, 4. Betty Kern. 8. Nash Kelly, 2. Miriam Mills, 8. Fred Wing, 6. Mary K. Royer, 2. Mart ha I Ryan, 2. Ninth Grade McCammon, Betty. I. Thompson, Irma, 3. Munkcl. Josephine, I. Zartman, Dorothy, 3. Tenth Grade Catharine Gibson, 6. Eleventh Grade Stuart Collins, 8. Catharine Brown, I. Edmund Dwyer. 5. Anna Mills, 4. Marian W'right. 7. I iRurcs indicate number of months student was on Honor Roll

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22 ARLINGTON ANNUAL THE RIDE OF THE LITTLE EAGLET The Chief sat in council with all his braves. Little Eaglet, the son of the Chief, was missing. Many Indians had been stepping all day through the dark forest in hopes of finding him. Now the crackle of the great pow-wow fire was heard and the sound of deep guttural voices came from the tent. Sometimes the wind would waft the scent of pine logs and peace pipes to the band of squaws dressing deer skins in the center between the tepees. As night began to fall and the supper fires were casting grotesque shadows on the decorated tents, the pow-wow broke up. Braves and warriors returned to their squaws and silently ate the corn, fish and venison prepared for them. The Chief had decided that one day and one night would be spent in search of Little Eaglet. If he were not found prayers to the Great Spirit would be offered and sacrifices made to the Spirit of Falling Waters. In the meanwhile gloom had settled over the camp and until Little Eaglet should return again, it would not be banished. In the Chief's tent sat the Chief with impassive face. Only the quivering of his muscles showed the force of the great emotion. He sat there until the dawn came with its feeble rays of light softly illuminating his stern set features. The day passed slowly, while anxious eyes looked and alert ears listened intently for the running feet of Little Eaglet. As the night drew on the tom-toms began their mournful dirge, accompanied by the funeral dancing and wailing of the warriors for him. Far away Little Eaglet stood, bound as tight as leather thongs would allow. He was cold, hungry, and utterly miserable. The night before he had been fishing for sal- mon, when a band of hideously painted Indians took him prisoner. The next morning they had travelled far, and when they had bound him, he could walk no longer. Cautiously Little Eaglet glanced around the tent to see if some lurking shadow might betray the position of some hidden guard. Then slowly he began straining at his thongs. Inch by inch they grew looser, for they were old and worn; bit by bit Little Eaglet wrenched at his hands until at last, with a violent jerk he freed himself and untied his feet. A peep outside the tent showed the watchfires dim and shadowing. The tired Indians had slumbered while their campfires burned low. Little Eaglet, with his heart in his mouth, tiptoed carefully to the place where the horses were haltered beneath a giant oak tree. He felt their manes and came to one which was very long and silky, unusual in the wiry Indian horses. He had the treasure of the tribe under his hand. Fleetfoot was a horse coveted by the various tribes, yet it seemed that he belonged to no one tribe. A daring scheme came to Little Eaglet. Since no horse was ever so swift as Fleetfoot, why not take him? With trembling hands he untied Fleet-foot’s strap and giving him a little push, stood erect and triumphant, listening for suspicious sounds from the sleeping band. The horses, grown restless by the little figure among them stamped and pawed nervously. Suddenly one of them gave a shrill neigh of alarm. Up jumped the warriors and the camp was in a turmoil. Little Eaglet sprang on Fleetfoot and in fright pounded the big stallion with bare heels. Immediately