Wells River High School - Chatterbox Yearbook (Wells River, VT)

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THE CHATTERBOX 15 The latter she used first, but nowhere was she able to see land. She was lying on some fur robes with other robes wrapped about her. Beside her was a lantern and a stove. “What could they want of her?” she was ask- ing herself when she heard one of the men say,“You run over, Pete, and see if the girl’s asleep. If she is I’ll tell you something, but be sure that she is.” Anita closed her eyes. Pete came strolling over, and looked cautiously at her. “She’s asleep,” he said. “Never’s woke up, I guess.” Joe proceeded, “Albert Bar- stone is my uncle— Anita had hard work to keep still. So this was her cousin, Joe Marlowe, was it? Her father’s sister’s son. A high wind was rising and the girl drew the robes more closely about her. “You’re forgettin’ the other feller,” said Pete, and then Anita heard a loud crash and all was darkness once more. Was this some terrible dream, or was she really ly- ing there in that dark place? Anita shivered and reached for blankets to pull up over her, but there were no blankets to pull. She felt of her clothing. It was wet—as wet as the sea itself, and she tried to move her stiffened joints. Af- ter a few efforts she concluded that it was of no use to try to get up. She sank back, exhausted. Then, realizing that she must get up. she made a last effort. This time she succeeded in rising. She walked around until she spied a faint streak of light. Going in the direction whence it came she found that she was in a cave and this was the opening. As she first stepped into the open, with the bright rays of sunlight in her eyes, she could but faintly distin-

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14 THE CHATTERBOX Anita had been born in the mansion at Barstonville, California, and now the very thought of leaving it made her homesick. The Barstones had lived in it ever since Anita’s great grandfather had been a baby and that prob- ably gave the town its name. Miss Barstone, eighteen years of age, a girl of medium height with large gray eyes and nut brown curls, was all ready for the play. She was a senior in high school and was to take the part of Betty” in “Betty Behave.” Anita laid one hand on the granite pillar which rose far into the dark. Finally, she raised her voice, “Mother, are you com- ing?” she called. “Just a minute, dear,” answered her mother, with a voice so near like her own that one might think they were the same. Anita started to answer when she felt herself picked suddenly, roughly, off her feet and carried by someone. She tried to cry out but her mouth was covered by some- thin white. “I can’t call,” thought Anita, “I might as well listen and hear what they say, who they are.” “Well Joe, where you goin’ next?” she heard a rough voice call after someone who was trudging noiselessly along ahead. “Shh—not so loud,” whispered Joe, “You’re good at catch’.n ’em, Pete, but you’re no good at keepin’ ’em. You just follow me.” The next the girl heard was the lapping of the waves —then—all darkness. Chapter 2 When Anita’s consciousness returned to her she saw the moon shining on the water, and beside the sails of a little sailboat, the two men. Anita was still muffled but she could hear and see, and she determined to make the best possible use of her ears and eyes.

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16 THE CHATTERBOX guish the landscape. Gradually, her eyes became accus- tomed to the brightness and she saw that she was on a lonely island in mid-ocean. Anita could see numerous small clumps of tall grasses growing about on the island, and a splendid idea came to her. She resolved to fashion a skirt and a waist from these, so that she might remove her own clothing and dry it. It did not take long to accomplish this, and soon she was garbed in the primitive garments, and her own lay drying in the sunlight. Just as she was coming from the cave she heard a long shrill whistle. What could it be? (to be continued) —V. B. ’25 FAITH Oft’ when the morning dawns in beauty rare. The whole wide world seems free from strife and care. We stand and watch the mist so slowly rise, Viewing with joy the splendor of the skies, As nature’s beauties lie before our eyes. But sometimes on so bright and fair a day, Our hearts are far from being light and gay. Burdened by a load of sorrow and care. We see but dark’ning shadows everywhere. (There’d be no crown were there no cross to bear). We are as small crafts on the troubled deep, We know not what to do our course to keep. There is one thing alone to do—,We must Have faith, and in our Lord put all our trust, He knoweth what is best and He is just. —T. L. L. ’23