Westbrook High School - Blue and White Yearbook (Westbrook, ME)

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A I The Blue fr White '6 better than a good mouse stew. I skun fa local- ismj three of them quickly and roasted them in an oven I had learned to build when I was cap- tured by the terrible head-hunting savages of East Borneo. I have never eaten a meal that tasted better because with every mouthful I took, I said to myself, Chicken, nice chicken! What wonder- ful chicken you cook, Mrs. Bloom l After getting filled, I immediately set off to the nearest settlement, a hundred and two miles away. I arrived there that evening in the best of spirits and hastened to assure my comrades that I was safe once more, but they were not worried for this was not the first time I had disappeared for days at a time. Indeed not. Why, once I was caught in a terrible blizzard fifty miles from the North Pole. I was alone with my dogs and a sledge loaded with seven hundred pounds of food and a small tent. The blizzard began to blow late in the after- noong so I decided to pitch my tent and turn in for the night. I fed my dogs fifty pounds of frozen fish and chewed on a piece of jerky, then dived into my tent for a few hours' sleep. I knew it was going to be a bad night as the thermometer was already down to seventy below zero. I was awakened suddenly as a particularly strong gust of wind fit was blowing normally at ninety-eight miles an hourj took my tent off for a little joy ride. Well, there I was, left to brave the worst night in the arctic without even a tent to rest my weary bones in. I sat up to look the situa- tion over. What? Why, where were my dogs? Ah, yes, there was one. But where were the others? I knew. They had left me. They were far from being dogs anyway. Three-quarters of their blood was wolf and nobody but me could handle them. At last their wild instincts had got the better of their human training and they had gone, loping off into the night to a far worse life than living with men. It was a terrible predica- ment, but was I daunted? No, no, a thousand times no. How could a man of my caliber fear the mere elements when he has faced dangers a hundred times worse? I immediately made a pack of provisions and took my only dog and left for the North Pole. No, I didn't turn around and start for civilization as any ordinary man would have done. At fifty miles from the goal I had set out to attain, I could not turn back. I felt certain that my sturdy con- stitution and iron will power would see me through the worst storms. And I was right. The hardships were many and the dangers encountered were enough to make an ordinary man beg for mercy. On the second day out I saw a huge polar bear fishing through the ice. Beside his hole was a seal and a pile of fish. I needed those fish and was determined to get them. I stalked carefully up behind him intending to jump on his back and choke the life out of him, but as I stole closer and closer my foot slipped on a piece of ice and the bear jumped nimbly to his feet. We stood there staring at each other, waiting for the first charge to be made. I decided to let him make the attack. After an hour of outwaiting each other. the bear made the first move. He started to lunge toward me but he didn't move a step. His feet were frozen solid to the ice, so long had we stood there without moving a muscle. I roared out a hearty laugh because now I could have the fish without getting my furs bloody. But my joy was short- lived. My own feet were stuck fast: they had sunk into the ice up to my ankles. Have you ever seen anything quite so comical? VV ell, there was only one thing to do-my shoes must come off. I could wrap some sealskin around my feet and in that way make my way to the pole. I had only a quarter-mile to go, the pole was already in sight. I could see the top of it shining in the distance like a striped barber's pole CI've always wondered who put it therej. Of course, my feet would be more or less cold, but-what's a pair of cold feet to a man like me. Vtfhen I ar- rived at the pole, I hurriedly scratched my name on it and started my journey back home. It was only a couple of thousand miles to the nearest settlement and I expected to arrive there in a week. The only trouble I had on the way home was my dog's getting frozen feet. I had to carry him most of the way. Other than that it was a comparatively uninteresting tramp. I arrived safely home in just a week and a half. There bands played to my glory and autograph seekers by the thousands sought the one and only signature of that greatest adventurer and man of

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Westbrook High School I I Evil, his evil .... What was that? His mother was reading: The wages of sin is Death. . . . The wages of sin . . . whose sin? His, joe's sin. . . . Somewhere within him something snapped 3 a feeling of calm possessed him. Involuntarily he murmured, God, be merciful to me, a sinner. A. H., '37, THE WASTEBASKET Within this dark and dismal tomb Lie hours of thought, Hours of meditation. Records of fleeting moments, sudden inspirations Painstakingly recorded, or jotted down at random. Some records- Once surrendered to a jury, Eagle-eyed and cynical as a gossip- Passed or failed To pass examination. Once o'kayed, Their goal was reached- Success! But these aren't those, These reached a different goal- The wastebasket, A tomb of worthlessness. A. P., '36. - ADVENTURES IN THE NORTH tNot far northj May I tell you a few of my adventures? Of course, I knew you wouldn't mind-very much. My adventures-not to brag, nay, far be it from me to boast or brag of the dangerous and perilous situations in which I have found myself from time to time-my adventures are the most exciting and interesting ones that a man can have and come out alive. Danger? Of course there is danger. But do men who have braved the storms of the seven seas and the blistering heat of the desert have fear? I should say not! Why, I remember the time when I was treed for three days and three nights by a family of ferocious field mice. Ah, I know you're laughing and calling me a coward, but you didn't see those field mice. In all my born days I have never seen such ferocious, blood- thirsty beasts. Their teeth were like sabers, their eyes like glowing coals in the darkness. '5 After being in that tree for three days I began to get hungry, so I looked for some way to kill the mice. I had no weapons except a small pen knife, but I had noticed that at night the tree that I was in glowed queerly. At last the thoughts I had been racking my brains for came to me. I was famed the world over as a naturalist as well as an explorer, and my wonderful knowledge now came to my rescue. The tree was a species known as amnoscelerinx, the bark of which is highly poisonous. I quickly cut several strips of the bark and chewed them into a juicy pulp g the remains I er-er-er-kept in my hat. After gathering a hatful of this potent brew-ah, there is one point I forgot to mention. I know you are wondering how I could masticate such a poison- ous mixture and not be affected by it myself. It so happened that although one drop of this poison will kill any rodent alive, a gallon of it will not harm a person. Well, after I deemed I had enough, I sprinkled it generously on the ground beneath me. The mice immediately gobbled the poison down. Within five minutes every mouse was lying flat on his back sleeping the sleep of all bad mice. I climbed out of the tree immediately, not a bit stiff or sore from my long sojourn, for I had kept up my daily exercises by swinging on the limbs Q a second Tarzanj. The mice were strewn so thickly on the ground that I could not find an open place to put my feet, so I gently slithered over the dead bodies to the outside of the ring. Of course, I was quite hungry after three days of fasting, but not any more so than if I had missed my break- fast that morning because in my career as a fa- mous teacher of physical culture I had learned to control the digestional organs of the stomach. However, I felt that I must eat something just to be conventional, and so I looked around. There was nothing but mice in sight-big mice, little mice, fat mice, mice with drooling jaws, brown mice, black mice, white mice, papa mice, baby mice. C If anyone reading this true account of my experiences can recite those last two lines without sounding as if he were eating a lemon, I will sign his name after it.j Well, now letis see. Oh, yes, there were all kinds of mice 5 so I decided that nothing could be x

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Westbrook High School in W the world-The Baron Robernertsky Cnot said in a boasting mannerj. These are only a few of my true experiences. I could run on for hours telling story after story but I'm afraid that most of them would be as dull and uninteresting as the ones just told and so I say as parting advice, Keep a strong constitution and a clear brain and you will some day attain as great success as I. R. K., '36. THE LOCKET The Germans had renewed the attack. Every detonation of the cannons which were now but ten miles away made each pane of glass in Chateau Fourcon vibrate almost to the breaking point. The roads were dense with troops being rushed to the front and ambulances hastily piloting their way to a wing of the Chateau which had been improvised as a temporary hospital. Irene stood at the gate, seemingly immune to all that was going on before her eyes but eager to see someone. Suddenly .her eyes detected the old post- man slowly limping his way towards the Chateau. In no time Irene had met the mail carrier and made him search among his letters for one bring- ing news of Raymond which she had expected for three long weeks. Raymond had been an orphan for as long as he could remember. The pastor of Bertierville had taken charge of his education and seen to it that an old family offered him a good home. Chateau Fourcon was the pride of Bertierville and Irene de Jasmin, the daughter of Count de Jasmin, was its most loved figure. Irene had met Raymond on one of her frequent visits to the young man's spiritual father. A beautiful friendship had resulted, a friendship which soon had the old people talking of the possible marriage of their beautiful chatelaine. But war had broken and Raymond was called for military service. He had been gone for seven months already. To Irene these seven months seemed seven eternities and her one consolation was the monthly letter from Raymond. It had been a promise which Raymond had made on the eve of his enlistment when both had met to say goodbye. Irene had slipped a locket around her lover's neck as a souvenir for those terrible days to come. 'Twas a beautiful golden case with the names of Raymond and Irene carved on the face of it. Inside were enclosed a few hairs which had been cut from one of Irene's curls when she was a child. Now, no word had been received for seven weeks. Every day Irene met the postman, but never even a note. The anxietv was almost un- bearable: was he dead, wounded, imprisoned? lk lk Ik lk lk The Germans were repelled and the Red Cross units searched the battlefields for the wounded. A Roche youngster was found with three bullet wounds through his chest but still alive. Ile was brought to the Chateau, where the French soldiers were cared for. I-Iis condition was of the most serious and a private chamber was prepared for him. Irene, who now worked with the other nurses to take care of the ever-increasing number of wounded boys, assisted the doctor in the deli- cate operation of removing the three bullets. The Roche soldier was young. must have been about Ravmond's age. He was of the same build. too. The bov will need a special nurse all through the night, Miss Irene, mumbled the doctor as he felt the patient's pulse. His condition gives him a fifty-fifty chance to live. I have a prescription here which he must be given at every hour. I'll send a girl from the village as soon as I get there. No, no, doctor, I'll take care of him tonight and see that he has his medicine at every hour. I assure you it won't be any trouble. Thus speak- ing, Irene sat near the bed, prepared to give her best care to an enemy. Water, water! Please give me a few drops of water. My throat is burning, moaned the German as soon as the doctor had left the room. Irene moistened his lips and his throat with a little water and the wounded soldier managed to smile a trifle. You thought I was still unconscious, he con- tinued in a weak voice, but clearly audible because he spoke so slowly. I heard you offer your help to care for me. I thank you. I have but a few moments to live and there is so much I must say. No, don't silence me. I must talk. I must tell you