Viscount Bennett Junior High School - Terminal Yearbook (Calgary, Alberta Canada)

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j.Page ' 90 .. . ......THE TERMINAL | began. This was s bad boner on our part for now the stallion had the drop on us. He | appeared from out of the herd screaming and biting any horse he neared. His technique and operation were superb. He worked with perfect timing; and in an I instant, he had the horses on the move, edging them out of the canyon and onto the prairie where he knew he could not be challenged. Our aim was to try and separate | him from his herd. He seemed to sense something was wrong, but he was too late. | He was now alone. We had three men on each side of him, slowly closing in; his I only escape was to leap over the twenty foot crevice. Suddenly, he made a break. He opened into full stride, racing straight for I that death-defying leap. But the stakes seemed to fall against him, in his last I burst of speed his foot lodged in a gopher hole and he plunged headlong into the [ black tavern of death. Susan Alexander, 10-2U j HONORABLE MENTION THE STAND-BY Marsha stood looking out of her bedroom window. It was dull and dreary and j had been raining off and on all day, which only added to Marsha s depression. For, on this day, her dad lay in his room, dying. Several days earlier he had had a i heart attack. The trouble had come very suddenly to shock Marsha, who had always thought of her parents as being in good health. Oh why doesn’t someone come out of there? said Marsha, to herself, rather pettishly. They’ve been in there for over an hour. As she stood there she saw the doctor come out of her father’s room. She started, but stopped when she saw him shake his head. Marsha knew only too well what had happened benind that closed door. Is he - is he...? Marsha couldn’t make the words come out. I’m afraid he is, Marsha. I’m sorry, very sorry. Your father was a good man | and I know how much you loved him. Marsha nodded, unable to speak. The tears were nearly ready to come. Marsha, said the doctor, He died without knowing it; I mean he was asleep. I | thought you’d like to know. Marsha threw herself on the bed scarcely believing what had happened. Her j father - always so cheerful and happy, hardly ever sick - was gone, never to come j back again. Marsha wanted to cry, but the tears wouldn’t come. There was only a ! dull ache. She didn’t know how long she had been lying there; but when she got up, it was ! nearly dark. Outside, the stars were beginning to twinkle. It was a peaceful night. Downstairs in the living room, Marsha found her mother, sitting quietly, alone in the dark. Marsha went, silently, to sit next to her. Her mother said nothing, but | put her arms around her daughter, with a sigh that went straight to the girl’s heart. ! It was then that Marsha knew, without a word being spoken, how much her mother really i needed her and it was then that the tears came, - and they didn’t stop until she fell ; asleep, her head on her mother ' s shoulder. Chris Marriott, 10- 2h

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THE TERMINAL Page 89 As I sat there I saw a garage to my left with two powerful foreign cars in it. Soon the men went into action. They went down to the cave and carried the cases to the cars. After a while they left, four in each car - then the whole garage j was lifted like an elevator to the top of the cliff. I was left in the charge of a big ape of a man named Biff Walters; and after a bit of questioning, my worst fears were allayed. This was an opium - smuggling ! gang wanted by the police in America as well as in British Columbia where they iirere now operating. Biff told me that the gang would be back at eight that evening and it was now four, which meant that I would have to work fast if I was to escape. (No doubt they intended to kill me when they returned.) By rubbing my bonds against the rock surface, I had freed my hand and untied ! my feet - unnoticed. I asked. Biff for some water; and while he was gone, I picked up a large stone. As he bent down to give me the water, I clubbed him on the back of the head with the stone. I then bound him securely and used the elevator garage, now in its place again, to make good my escape. Immediately I went to our police station where I told my story before a startled audience of two constables and one sargent, the whole of the Cliffton police force. They phoned to the nearest large police force for reinforcements, and while we waited, I told the sargent how to reach the place and what time to be there. After that he sent me home. The next day I was called to the Town Hall to receive my reward of Five Thousand Dollars for apprehending the gang. John Hughes, 9-U HONORABLE MENTION THE OUTLAW He was a fiendish devil we had heerd tell of, part mustang and part Arabian. A fleeting deer with the heart of a cougar was how he was commonly described. His colour was jet black with streaks of blue running through his mane. His head was short and stocky but his large nostrils accentuated his hate - filled eyes. It was a June day and, like many days in Idaho, there was no wind. The heat swelled your lungs and left your lips dry and cracked. After a long cattle drive, the sweltering heat left you gasping for breath. When we arrived at the Wells ranch there was much talk about a black stud who had stolen near to two hundred head of mares and colts. He’s got to be stopped, said the foreman bitterly. He’ll clean the lot of us out griped a small, mustached man. A devil. That’s all he is, and the only way to deal with his kind is with a bullet. And so it was decided that the outlaw was to be destroyed. A small band of men were picked the following day; and x rith a day’s and night’s equipment, they mounted and rode off. In our eagerness to see this amazing animal, we gathered our gear together and galloped after the tiny band. We rode all that day and part of the night. It was hot and dusty, and by early morning, some began to drop out. It wasn’t until noon that we spotted the herd. It lay in a secluded canyon with two passes leading outward to the long stretch of prairie. We edged our horses nearer, being careful not to attract the attention of the leader. Suddenly, one of the colts whinnied and the commotion

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THE TERMINAL Page 91 FIRST PRIZE S S A Y FLYING SAUCERS ? One of the greatest controversies of our day concerns the existence of flying saucers or Unidentified Flying Objects. These objects have been sighted by observers all over the world. Mrr.y people believe that these Unidentified Flying Objects (U.F.O. ' s) are in reality space ships manned by creatures from another world. They believe that no earth man today has the technical knowledge required to build such a craft. Other people believe that U.F.O.s are nothing more than common weather balloons, reflections, clouds, stars, meteorites or hallucinations. Still others place the U.F.O.s in the category of the Loch Ness Monster, the unicorn, sea serpent and. Abominable Snowman. -. Who are we to say what these mysterious ' : - - things are? It seems unlikely that they are y ' ' • — ' manned by creatures from another world, for j t there appears to be little chance that there is another planet which possesses the exact conditions necessary for life. If life does exist, is it likely that the life would be so much more advanced than ours? It is impossible to say one way or the other. Then, who, for example, has ever heard of these; weather balloons travelling against the wind at high speeds, a reflection where there is no glass, a cloud emitting an orange flashT ing light, stars moving rapidly about, making intricate turns, meteors falling like a leaf, stopping and zooming back upwards, or hallucinations being picked up on radar and chased by jet interceptors? Such explanations have been given to account for some of the U.F.Os. sighted. There have been so many sightings by reputable people that it is a little hard to place the V.F.O.s in the mythological category, y—These U.F.O.s, if real, must be present in J our skies at all times. It is significant that I ' with the coming of the Sputniks, there has been J 3 great increase in the number of U.F.O. f sightings due to more people watching the heavens. Nobody can say for sure -what they are, but there is something in our skies. SECOND PRIZE Gretchen Meade, 10-1:3 AUTUMN MORNING The mist of early hour still hid the rising day when I, with camera and lunch, set out for great adventure. The murmur of a small only sound that broke the and left stretched, high abov. peaks of th : Bavarian Alps, mist began to rise, a sun ' s formed to glittering diamonds- gathered on the leaves. A OiJ- mountain stream was the empty silence. To my right ... all earthly dwellings, the • P -a Here and there, where the . --iy ( . ) T ray hit the grass and trans- ‘ the tiny droplets which had bird boan to sing. Soon