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

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20 j The Blue fu- VVh1te spirit, the sad look in his eyes struck a responding chord in my heart. I-Iere, I said to myself, is a horse that has lived, a horse that has seen life and found it worthless, but more important than this, a horse that will understand my melancholy na- ture and will realize that circumstances Cover which I had no control whateverj made me at- tempt horseback riding. The circumstances, I night explain, were two very impetuous friends, Paul and Dick. They had swept me off my feet, and before I realized it, I agreed to go with them horseback riding. And there I Was, as a result, standing in the middle of the floor of a somewhat second-rate riding establishment, regarding a four- legged creature which, despite its promising evi- dences of safety, might turn out to be a world hero simply by breaking my neck. I questioned the stable master as to the advisa- bility of taking him, and he assured me that even if I had the choice of all the horses in the world I couldn't have chosen a better mount. CI have found since then that the horse was the last one in the stable.j So I had him saddled and bridled and was ready for the momentous occasion. Well, there you are, said the stable man, and left me. Yes, there I was. But what was I sup- posed to do? How was I to get on? My friends outside were calling impatiently for me to hurry. I tried to get on, but the horse kept sliding away nervously every time I tried to mount Q so I pushed him against a wall, placed a box beside him and jumped. But as I jumped, he jumped- the other way. The result was a jumble of saddling around my neck from a hook on the wall. Finally, I called to Paul and Dick and they came and helped to hoist me aboard that eel, Tiny. The minute I was in the saddle something told me all was not well, however, I couldnlt back out on my friends, and being of Scottish descent I wouldn't forfeit my money without a ride, no matter how disastrously it might turn out. VVe rode down the hill on which the barn was located and wound down a little valley till we reached a great level stretch of pasture land. By this time I was congratulating myself on having chosen such a good mount. I even went so far as to say, VVell, Dick, I guess you'll have to admit that I'm a pretty good judge of horseflesh. Now, look at Tiny here, he's got a wistful look in his eyes. I'll bet he's never had a good master. What he needs is a guy like me. Yeah? Well, wait till this ride is over before you start bragging, answered Dick. But this retort didn't bother me very much, be- cause Dick hasn't such a fine nature as I have, and I can forgive people like him, because they can't enjoy life as I do, or rather did till I took up horsemanship. We rode on a few rods and just at the edge of the pasture I decided to lengthen my stirrups 3 consequently I took my feet out of the irons and started fumbling with the straps. In doing this I also let go of the reins because I needed both hands. At this opportune moment, Paul's horse took in its head the idea of doing a bit of trotting, so Dick's horse started trotting, and then Tiny started. Well, you can imagine how I felt, no reins, no stirrups, not even the ability to stick on. Suddenly it struck me that the neck of my horse was a very advisable place to anchor myself. This I proceeded to do by the simple expedient of wrapping my arms around that member. I'll ad- mit that it wasn't a very comfortable position, with my glasses dangling from one ear and my hat jammed over the other, but it had its points because it made Tiny so uncomfortable that he stopped. With a relieved sigh I straightened up in the saddle, and Tiny, seeing how far away he was from the barn, broke into a canter. Then I understood that wistful look in his eyes. Nothing could keep me in the saddle but a stranglehold around his neck 3 but when I did this, that fiendish animal started to gallop so fast that the grass tickled his stomach. I started to pray for a safe landing: however, my eyes were so dizzy from the reeling ground that I couldn't gather my thoughts, much less pray. Despite my plight. I wasn't going to .give up without a struggle: so I bit my teeth in his mane, hugged him tighter with my arms, and dug my heels in his sides. I might mention, at this stage, that I was tak- ing a pounding comparable only to being tackled by two football teams simultaneously, but a little thing like that didn't bother me at all. Only a blast of nitroglycerine or a derrick could have removed me from the saddle, that is, as long as

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Westbrook High School if I 19 country in large packs, and itwas as much as a man's life was worth to be caught out at night when a pack was near. Such a winter we had to face, and the trips to the village, which was twenty miles away, were terrible experiences. We made these necessary trips once every two months to get the grain for the horses and provisions for ourselves, which we had not been able to lay in before winter broke. Luckily, however, before the snows became so deep that horses could not be used, enough pro- visions were laid in so that the trips could be made with a toboggan and Snowshoes. One still morning during the first week of December, Father and I started out on the last trip before Christmas. We were still using horses and sleds, for, although the snow in the woods was very deep, it was possible to go fifteen of the twenty miles on the lake. We started at four in the morning and arrived in the village about nine. We had planned to start home at noon, but one horse had cast a shoe coming into town and it was imperative that it be replaced in order that he be able to stand on the smooth ice of the lake. Therefore. because of various reasons, partic- ularly the smith's ill luck in fashioning another shoe, it was nearly three before we set out for home. A cold wind had started to blow, and Father and I had to take turns running along be- hind the sled to keep from freezing. Although we hurried the horses along as fast as possible, it was just dusk when we saw the place where we were to enter the woods from the lake. At that time a sudden impulse caused me to look away to the left. What I saw sent a chill straight to my heart! A pack of wolves numbering over a score were running silently toward us across the bay. Huge, gaunt brutes they were, with their grey fur on end. Father yelled at the horses, and just then the wolves, sensing a race, howled fiercely. This terrified the horses greatly and they began to run, gaining speed at every jump, with the sled slithering along behind them. We hung on z-as best we could, and prayed that the sled would not overturn before we reached the woods. We decided to gain as much of a lead as pos- sible over the wolves while on the ice, for there we had the advantage over them, and then un- hitch, leave the sled, and ride the rest of the live miles home. VVhen we reached the edge of the woods, however, and began to wonder how we were going to stop the horses, one runner of the sled hit a buried stump and over we went in a cloud of snow. Before I had time to think, we had managed to mount the plunging creatures and were tearing down the trail. It was a fearful sight to look back and see those huge grey shadows, each with its pair of shining yellow spots of light, slowly but surely gaining on us. The temperature must have been well below the zero mark, yet the horses between our knees were dripping sweat. At last, when it did not seem possible for the horses to go a step farther, and when the wolves were not more than one hundred feet away, we came in sight of the barn. Father slid off and opened the door and yelled for me to ride right in, but the horse beneath me was plunging about so, and I was so nervous myself that I lost my balance and rolled off. To make matters worse, Father, thinking me safe, rushed in behind the horses and slammed and bolted the door. I never before felt so helpless in all my life. It was like a nightmare and for at least ten seconds all I could do was to crouch there on my knees and stare at those oncoming demons, wondering what was happening. At last, however, I found my voice and yelledg Father, who was beginning to wonder where I was, unbolted and opened the door. I slipped inside just as the leader of the pack was less than ten feet away, and believe me, I never heard a sound that sounded so good in my ears as the sound that door made when it slammed shut. D. G., '38. SADDLE GALLS He looked so innocent standing there with his head hung low and his velvety lips nibbling at my hand. In fact, he looked like just the sort of horse that I should want for my first attempt at equitation. Besides all these evidences of lack of

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Westbrook High School in I 2' that piece of horsefiesh stayed on level ground. Unfortunately, he wasn't of the same mind as I was. His knowledge of geometry taught him that the shortest distance to the barn was a straight line. Well, at the first fence he cleared, a foot of daylight appeared between the saddle and myself 3 at the second fence, I lost everything but my hold about his neck, and at the third, everything went. Strangely enough, my landing wasn't half as bad as I had expected. I lost only part of my shirt, one shoe, stopped on the way for a mud pack, and dislocated my wrist, not to mention a broken pair of spectacles and the disappearance of a leg of my trousers. Thus encouraged by this ability of mine to nego- tiate safe landings from four-legged tornadoes, I determined to take up horseback riding as an art. L. M., '36. QUEER PERSON He's queer, we said, always doing something Crazy. We can't understand him. Last night We couldn't find Old Jim. Hunted all over town For him. Know where we found him? In Jeff Saunders' house, on the other side of town, Rocking Jefivs youngest child to sleep and telling Stories to those other young ones that'd make your eyes pop out. Old Jim, sitting in Jeff Saunders' house On the other side of town where those people lived, Whose doings were the whispered gossip of the village! And at Jeff Saunders'l We did think he had More sense than that! We dragged him away, And when we got him outside, we gave him A good talking to for being where he was. About halfway through we stopped. There was a hurt look In Old Jim's eyes: Couldn't understand it. Remembered several times before when we had scolded him like that. D. K., '36. BIG BEN The Big Ben Alarm Clock Company sponsors an interesting fifteen-minute program on Sunday nights. It is original, interesting, and entertaining. For me, however, this program revives an un- pleasant memory. The announcer illustrates the two feature clocks of the company in these words: The regular alarm clock wakes you gentlyg first it whispers, like this, and he sets off the ringing apparatus which produces a soft sound. If you fail to awaken, then it shouts, continues the an- nouncer. Once more you hear the alarm, but this time it is a steady, loud noise. If this can't get you out of bed, persists the announcer, then you need a Big Ben Loud Alarm like this. Follows a wave of noises similar to a fire truck hell which should make any man jump out of bed if only for the sake of interrupting such a racket. This ex- hibition of various alarms may be pleasing to the sponsors of the program, but as I previously men- tioned, it hurts me deeply. And it all dates back to five years ago when I was in New York City on a pleasure trip. My young uncle, with whom I lived, left for work before I could get up. He had told me the night before that I should meet him about twelve o'clock in front of the Brooklyn Metropolitan Theater. F rom there we were to go to dinner together. I remembered these instructions well, but I had no watch. And how was I to meet him at twelve if I had no, way of telling time? I certainly couldn't stop people on the street every ten minutes or so to inquire what hour it might be. There was a fireplace in my room and over it, as over all fireplaces, and a small mantel. Exactly in the center of this mantel rested a small-sized Big Ben alarm clock. And what did I do but take this miniature clock and put it in my pants pocket. Through the! streets and avenues of Brooklyn I walked all that morning with one hand in my pocket so that the Big Ben wouldn't be noticed too much. I felt as if everybody were staring at me in a strange way. The click, click, click seemed to cover the millions of noises about me. Even the milkman's horse's hoofs produced a mild sound in comparison with the clock move- ments in my pocket. Click, click, click-I can still hear the infernal noise through these five years past. The worst experience was yet to come. Came noon hour and I had forgotten the fixed ren- dezvous with my uncle. All I was certain of was that the place represented a busy and well-known spot in Brooklyn. I paraded in front of the Roosevelt Hotel, the Fox Theater, the Chin Toy