Victoria High School - Victorian Yearbook (Edmonton, Alberta Canada)

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Year Book 35 That night around the campfire there were no two happier people than Slim and Jerry, smiling at each other, laughing and joking with everyone. Later as Jerry, standing straight, tall and fine, said good night, Slim suddenly looked at him and said, smilingly: “Jerry Allyn, you are the nicest boy on earth.” And Jerry, as he watched her run up the path, said to himself, or the moon or the world at large, “Well, Elspeth, if I’m the nicest boy, you most certainly are the most wonderful girl, and some day”—his lips once again curved in a smile as he turned towards home. HAIL TO VICTORIA, QUEEN OF ALL HIGH SCHOOLS! Debates, dramatics, all the year ’round, Sports, students, everything sound. What other school can boast these things, What other school has taken to wings? We may start wrong, but we finish right; It is in this where lies our might. No other school has us beat, No other school but must retreat Before the faithful student band. Clasping their power, hand in hand. Honor, truthfulness, we have them all; Nothing but death will make us fall. William Strojich. Room 10. PEACE With dark boughs tossed against the sky By the West wind as it swept by, The spruce trees tall, stood row on row, Murmuring things we could not know; And offering up their humble plea That men at peace might ever be. Then men, too heedless of this prayer, Broke the proud spruce trees standing there, And masts upon some warship great Became the fine petitioners’ fate. Margaret E. Smith, Room 5.

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34 Victoria High School Slim hadn’t expected that. She had expected to get reprimanded then and there, and to obey with mockery on the surface, but really gladly. However, Jerry didn’t seem to consider her feelings so she finished the set and then started home, saying she was too tired to play any longer. She half expected that Jerry would follow, but he kept on playing, evi¬ dently not even noticing that she was leaving. The following two weeks until the regatta were two weeks of misery for both Slim and Jerry, although they appeared to be having an excellent time. Both were practising their dives and swimming faithfully. Both had found new partners for the canoe events. The day of the regatta arrived. It was always a great day at the beach and that year a better program than ever had been arranged. As a result there w as a large crowd of spectators from the city. Event followed event. Slim led for the girls and Jerry for the boys, both having won everything in which they had entered. “Girls’ canoe race next!” the announcer’s voice thundered out. “Help! Help!” A cry was heard over the water. Everyone looked out over the lake. There they saw an overturned canoe with three people hanging to it. Slim had seen the accident before the cries were heard, had dived from the raft and was swimming rapidly towards the spot. Several men leapt for boats, but Jerry’s voice broke in: “You stay here! Slim’s swimming out to them and I’m going after her. You get blankets and stuff.” So saying, the boy jumped into the boat, and, pulling with long even strokes soon met Elspeth who was towing in one of the girls who had been upset. “You take this kid in, Jerry,” she said, “and then come back.” Jerry hesitated. “Go on! Do as I say.” Jerry went. He landed the girl and came back. “Here, Jerry!” Slim pulled the other girl up to the boat. Her voice sounded tired but before the boy could stop her she was off again, swim¬ ming more slowly, this time realizing that perhaps she could not make it. Other boats had come out regardless of Jerry’s command, and the third girl had been picked up. “Heh! Allyn! The girls are all in, you had better get Slim!” Slim was swimming, swimming. She felt she could go no further, but she must—she must. Suddenly she heard a voice: “Here! Hang on to this. The other kids are all right!” Jerry threw her a rope. She grabbed at it and missed. Grabbed again but missed, and could keep up no longer. Down, down, down, she was going. What a terrible feeling! Then some one took her arms and started for the surface. “Ah! there they were. Wasn’t that great.” Jerry swam slowly, giving Slim time to regain her strength. “Listen, kid,” he said, “you can touch bottom now, so if you can walk, go ahead. I don’t want to be accused of saving your life.” “But, Jerry,” Slim said, putting her feet on the bottom, though still hanging on to Jerry for support, “you shouldn’t miss such an opportunity to exercise your knowledge of life-saving.” “Shut up, youngster,” he grinned in a way that made Slim’s heart turn over. “I don’t need to exercise any on you. You know enough and swim well enough without me butting in.”

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36 V icTORiA High School UPSTAIRS By Ronald McClung, Room 5 T HE great day arrived at last. Ever since he had come into the air force, Bud Wilson had been looking forward to the occasion. Bud was one of the lucky few who were about to take the test for their air force pilot’s permit. He had been rather slow to learn, at first, but he had soloed in a month, which was a great accomplishment. He knew that he had an excellent chance of getting his permit unless the examiner happened to be Sergeant Algernon Carstairs. Carstairs was known to the boys of the force as “Bumpy” because he always had his wind up. He was a mean fellow and had “washed-out” many promising pilots for slight errors during tests. He was notorious for his impracticable, difficult tests. So, on this bright day in June, Bud Wilson was nervous, not because he feared failure, but because he feared “Bumpy” Carstairs would be his examiner. Bud took out his little moth and tuned her up. Everything went well. Ten minutes more and the examiners would arrive. Would he get “Bumpy” or a decent examiner? No time to worry now, so Bud, after a last look around, taxied down the smooth runway, gained speed and took off. He was “upstairs” in no time. “Upstairs” is the name given by pilots every¬ where to the altitude of twenty thousand feet. “I’ll try a few spins, now,” thought Bud, as he drew back the stick and gave his ship right rudder. From the ground the trim little yellow biplane looked like a golden eagle glittering in the sun as it dove for its prey below. Then the machine levelled out about five hundred feet above the ground and commenced to spiral slowly towards the field. The landing which followed this performance was a very pretty manoeuvre, but not in the eyes of Sergeant Carstairs who stood near the hangar waiting for his prey. For he it was who was to examine the unfortunate Bud Wilson. As Bud leapt lightly from the cockpit, “Bumpy” came up alongside the machine and shouted: “You needn’t bother to get out, as we’re going up right now. I’ve waited for you long enough.” Bud saluted and replied: “All right, sir. Sorry to have kept you waiting.” Then, under his breath: “I hope I give you a dose of air sickness, you old fossil.” “Eights around pylous,” shouted Carstairs through the speaking tube, after he had strapped himself into the front cockpit. Bud gasped, for eights were one of the most difficult feats and he had no idea that he would be required to perform this first. “O.K., you silly chump,” said he (as his voice was not directed through the tube, “Bumpy” didn’t hear him). Then they took off and climbed, but they didn’t get “upstairs,” for as soon as the height of ten thousand feet was reached, “Bumpy” yelled, “Hey, where do you think you’re going, you little fool? I suppose you think I want to go away up so I’ll be sure to be killed when you smash up this machine.” “Sorry, sir,” said Bud, “I always like plenty of altitude.” “Now, then,” he murmured, as he levelled out and began his figure eights, “I hope you fall out and bust your neck.” “What are your pylous?” shouted Carstairs.