West Side High School - Legenda Yearbook (Saginaw, MI)

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Rollo was disgusted with the world and its ways. He tossed the photograph across the table to his irate father. When I marry, he delivered his shot dramatically, it will be the woman I love! He stalked tragically from the room, leaving Old Rollo staring at him in amazement, tinged with admiration. Times immemorable the subject was broached, even after this outburst. The Old Man was determined to have his way. He threatened on several occasions to disinherit his son, but some latent instinct in his being told him that Rollo needed tactful handling. Following this situation, he allowed the discussion to drop for awhile, but the government was kept busy carry- ing mail between New York and California. At last he re-introduced it when he and Rollo were dining at the club to which they both belonged. ' Joe Branch and his daughter will be here in a few days, he announced easily. Clara — that ' s the girl ' s name — thinks that Joe ' s coming on a business trip, which he is, in a way. He held up a telegram. They ' re already started, he complted. Mr. Armitage was veiy well pleased with himself. His son finished his dinner, carefully laid down his napkin, and arose to leave. He was very calm. I won ' t have a thing to do with them he stated quietly, and left the room. Mr. Armitage shrugged his shoulders, fully believing that the young man would change his mind when he had to. Rollo called a taxi and went to New York ' s Chinatown, then popular with the Four Hundred, with the determined intent of burying his sorrows in dance and song. He didn ' t care for intoxicating beverages, so it was impossible for him to drown his woes; he at last decided to smoke them out with opium. Unknown to the police of the metroDolis, to whom it must be admitted much is known, was a drug den in the musty cellar of Chinee Charlie ' s Jazz Palace. To this haven of vice Rollo was conducted by a wary, squint-eyed, unemotional old Chink, a student of human nature to his yellow core. To many of the applicants for an onium stall this guarded Oriental turned a bland, saffron countenance with the time-worn words : No got! Others more for- tunate — or unfortunate, as you please — whom he believed desirous enough of the drug to keep secret its origin, he admitted, led them through a secret panel in a private room, down a dirty rat infested passagewav, and into the isolated den. There is little need to dwell upon Rollo ' s only sowing of wild oats. Sufficient to say that he reaped a splitting headache and a deadened mental system, and was entirely devoid of logical reason when he left an hour later. In the first place, his stomach felt strange. Not more than a week previous he had seen in the New York Globe, an advertisement embellished with the picture of a very stout man, who appeared to be calling his dog. That Derverse little animal was sitting happily under the shelter of the fat man ' s abdomen, but of this fact his master was supposed to be entirely igno- rant until he reduced by taking Fish ' s Fatoff Capsiiles. To return to Rollo ' s stomach, figura- tively speaking, that organ of digestion seemed as huge as the one in the patent medicine ad. He glanced cautiouslv down at his fee t. Yes-s-s, he could have seen his dog had he been there, because he could distinguish his toes as it was. I me n Rollo ' s toes. He could have seen old Ruff anyway, since he was an unusually big Newfoundland. His head was also out of joint. It was as heavv as lead and wouldn ' t balance on his shoulders. As a cap to his difficulties, when he looked at one lamp post he saw two. And he usually tried to hang onto the wrong one. He lurched down this street and that, finallv reaching the swarming heart of the city. To the eyes of the curious passers-by he was stupidly drunk. He realized one fact in a dim, unreal way. No self-respectinsr girl would care to marry a man locked up for drunkenness. And he was glad. But as usual when wanted, not a policeman was near, even when a victim was all set for a ride in the wagon. So Rollo meandered on. Suddenly he was seized with a tremendous desire to sleep. The potent opium was numb- ing his faculties. Near him at the curb was parked a large enclosed motor car, empty. Even the chauffeur was absent, so Rollo straightened his hat and sauntered almost elegantly to the machine, opened the door to the back seat, pulled down every curtain, and stretched out luxuri- ously on the soft cushions. II When he awoke, his return from dreamland was punctuated by a series of violent jerks. Apparently the motor car was in motion. Rollo, still dopey, was undecided as to what course he should take, so he remained quiet. From where he lay, by twisting his neck, he obtained a fine view of the occupants of the front seat. The dome lights were not switched on, so the two persons there hqd probably overlooked his presence. He could see them plainly, a man whose face he did not like, and a girl whose face he did like, by the rays of the dash lamp. In spite of a terrific headache Rollo was able to appreciate the beauty of the girl. He lay still, know- ing that silence only would save him from discovery.

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DESTINY ' S DUMBELLS HOWARD McINTYRE I Rollo was the only son of Old Rollo Armitage, who controlled the market so completely that everything but Ford stock dropped at least five points if he happened to sneeze. In that case, Ford preferred advanced ten. We may, of course, assume that Armitage Sr. had sev- eral rubles to his credit in the National Trust Association, his own brain child. To speak frankly, Rollo Jr. was not on particularly good terms with the Old Man. A bone of contention had been dug up by his father months before, and they were still chewing at the wretched thing. Neither one of them would swallow it, so it bid fair to live a long life. Matters were thus: Old Rollo had received a Special Delivery one morning, which he read before the news- paper at the breakfast table. An unusual occurence for the king of the market. He spent many moments in thought over his grapefruit before noticing his hopeful sitting opposite, then he glanced at the young man and appeared to make a decision. Rollo, he said firmly after clearing his throat in preparation for the utterance of some important message, I wish to see you married! The target of this unprecedented remark jerked convulsively, choked on his hot coffee, and coughed violently into his napkin. He looked at his parent with alarm. When he spoke his voice was strained with emotion — or hot coffee. What an original idea, pater, he said with all seriousness. Do you know any more good ones? Old Rollo was surprised. He had expected horrified objection, knowing well the nature of his son. This apparent acquiescence disarmed him. Why — er. It really isn ' t my idea at all — that is, he sputtered aimlessly. But I ' ve been — er considering your marriage for quite some time. This missive here, indicating the let ter, was the — er agent of — ah determination on the subject — um. Um, repeated Rollo. What ' s that! demanded his father observing him fruitlessly through his reading glasses. Did you say something? Oh, no, I merely intimated that you might continue. I ' ll continue when I get ready, snapped the Old Man. His aggressive business man- ner was returning. The only way to deal with this upstart son was to consider him a com- mercial inferior. Now listen! In my hand, he held up the envelope, I have a letter from an old friend in California. We made our starts together in the nineties, and later he took up the lumber trade. I took up steel. He is at present head of the Western State Lumber Com- pany, and is very successful. To be explicit, he must be worth thirty-five or forty millions. That would make a mighty nice addition to your patrimony when both he and I are gone. He stopped and gazed expectantly at Rollo. That young man was puzzled. How do you expect me to get it, he asked dubiously. Does he carry it around in a hand bag? Then light dawned through his active brain. You must want me to marry his daughter! Is that it? Your deductions are excellent, admitted Old Rollo with an attempt at irony. I ' d hardly expect you to marry his mother. But what if I don ' t — I mean what if the girl doesn ' t want me? His voice was hooeful. You needn ' t worry, Joe Branch is not the man to be moved by the wishes of a wilful girl. Besides, why shouldn ' t she marry you? I ' ve seen many worse looking boys than you. It was a doubtful compliment. Rollo figeted. I — darnit dad, maybe I ' d rather pick my own wife. Besides, he grasped wildly for a raft, she might stop a clock even if I don ' t. You wouldn ' t wish a woman off on me if she looked like an Igorot. Old Rollo brought his fist down on the table with emphasis. The jar upset the cream, summoned a frightened maid to the door, and startled a canary, quietly sleeping in his cage m the conservatory, into a wild burst of song. You ' ll do just as I say! roared the Old Man. I ' ve had more experience than you m such matters — ah, that is. Ah — my judgment is more mature than yours, he finished lamely. As far as her looks are concerned, he continued, I don ' t think she ' s bad. He handed Rollo a small photograph which had accompanied the letter. It was a snapshot of what at first appeared to be a beautiful sport sedan. On closer m- spection a girl was discernable. Her hair, blowing freely in the wmd seemed to be bobbed. Although her head was thrust out of a window, the picture was far too tmy to do either credit or discredit to the damsel he was scheduled to marry.

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The girl spoke. She had a nice voice, Rollo thought. How much longer will it take? she asked impatiently. We ' ve been gone over five hours as it is. From which the rear seat listener deducted that the time was anywhere from one o ' clock to dawn. It had been near eight when he entered the car. Hm-m. Five hours of riding at at least forty miles an hour. He must be two hundred miles distant from New York. ihe man at the wheel replied. His voice was not nice. It was more of a snarl. Don t wo rry, he answered. It will be another hour at least. The girl stared at the driver, suspicion on her face. Rollo liked her profile. Her hair seemed to be black or dark brown. He was prepared to bet that Clara was a blond. She turned to her companion. That bridge! she cried in dismay. You aren ' t taking me to Buffalo at all. We ' re almost north to Lake Champlain. I was here last summer. He laughed unpleasantly. Not much need of pretending now, is there? he asked. You know you wouldn ' t marry me last week when I asked you, so now you ' ll have to. Then you lied when you said that father was hurt at Buffalo? she demanded indig- nantly. He may be in New York at this minute, and he chuckled coarsely. A strange voice interrupted his chuckle. Rollo was very angry at the man ' s brutal treat- ment of the girl. And you ' d better be there in another five hours, he threatened. He forgot himself in his fury. The driver ' s face went white. He whirled about in nervous haste, his hands leaving the wheel. The girl turned on the lights and looked at Rollo. The unguided car, going nearly fifty miles an hour, left the road, and shot into the river. Rollo worked faster than at any time previous in his life. He reached for the girl, dragged her across the intervening seat, and almost before the car sank filled with water, opened the door in some manner, and fought his way to the surface, still holding the girl with one arm. He obligingly left the door open for Rath to leave by, but that gentlemin was never seen again. The water was cold, but the current slow, and he easily swam the few yards to the shore. A footpath led to the road, and he struggled up with his burden. The girl stirred in his arms, and he laid her down by the roadside, covering her with his coat, which even if water-soaked provided some protection. The night was bright, and by the big, yellow moon, Rollo saw her eyes slowly open. When she found him bending over her she was terrified. Rath! she cried. But on sitting up she realized her mistake. Are you the man who was in the back seat? she inquired, her teeth chattering from cold and fright. Yes, replied Rollo shortly. But do you feel well enough to walk? he asked. If you do you can keep much warmer. We ' ve simply got to find shelter. She agreed so he helped her to her feet, and with one arm around her, they started down the road. It was truly a wild country. The improved stone highway, a state trunk line, seemed entirely out of place in the wilderness. Large pine trees bordered the road on either side. A wooded stretch extended to the right. For perhaps an hour and a half they travelled along the hard stone road. The air was warm, and they were soon fairly comfortable, though their wet clothing was inconvenient. At length they came to a little farm house, resting in a well cleared area. Not a light shone from its windows. Rollo hesitated wh n he reached the door. What shall I do, he complained. It doesn ' t look right for us to be together as late as this. What time have you got, my watch has stopped. She bent her gaze on her time piece. The hands pointed to quarter past two. And it ' s stopped,too, she said holding the delicate piece of workmanship to her ear. We ' ve been walking over an hour, if I ' m any guesser. I can tell ' em we ' re brother and sister, — or else married. She colored. I believe that I ' ll pass as your sister. No one knows us here. Very well. And he rapped sharply on the door. A minute or two passed before a man answered the summons. He carried a shot gun, and his suspicion was obvious. Well what ' dyou want, he croaked, his eyes shifting from one to the other of his vis- itors. Rollo recounted their experience. May we stay here until morning? he inquired. I can telegraph then. How far is the nearest town? There was a touch of pessimism in his last question. Durham Corners is five miles north. He jerked his thumb in that direction. Are ya sure this girl ' s yer sister, he growled, with a gimlet like stare at the object of discussion. Why certainly she is, aren ' t you — uh — Clara, rejoined Rollo indignantly, but with some confusion. Of course she ' s my sister. The idea!