Westmont Hilltop Senior High School - Phoenician Yearbook (Johnstown, PA)

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Weeks had gone by and Cap was still living, lie seemed no better and yet no worse. “Children,” exclaimed Mr. Alcott, one evening after dinner, “Which shall we do—give up Cap or the baby?” After much discussion the children de- cided upon keeping sister. “But Dad,” asked Betty. “When are we going to take him away?” “Right now, dear heart,” was Mr. Alcott s reply. “Mother and I will take him down to the doctor’s tonight. See, then you can all go to sleep and for- get all about it. Now, how’s that?” “Aw Dad, please let him stay one more night— just tonight and then in the morning before we are awake you can take him. Huh?” “Dearest, don’t be foolish. What does one more night amount to?” But he was besought by four little voices cry- ing, “Oh. yes. Dad. do that. Just tonight!” This did not seem to be such a bad plan, thought Mr. Alcott. Probably the children would not be so grieved at their loss. After talking it over with Mrs. Alcott. he finally promised the children that he would keep Cap until the next day. The children were overwhelmed with joy! How much one more night means to a child! “Now everyone run and say good-bye to Cap. and then come and get Mother to tuck you into bed.” said Mrs. Alcott to her children. Every one of the little tots went tip-toeing down stairs in their bare feet to bid Cap good-bye. After much persuasion. Mrs. Alcott succeeded in getting her five children to bed. Soon everything was quiet. Presently Mr. Alcott spoke to his wife. “Jane dear, why not take him down now instead of waiting until tomorrow?” “Oh, no, James, wait until morning. It has grown so late and cold outside. Why not wait, and besides you promised the kiddies you would, dear.” “Oh. yes. that’s true—a promise is a promise. I shall wait.” Then walking over to his wife they both started upstairs. In the middle of the night Mrs. Alcott was sud- denly awakened. What could it be? She heard scratching somewhere. Yes. scratching. Then came a terrible howl from Cap, in the cellar. Mrs. Alcott could not understand it. She became frightened. Reaching over she awakened her husband. “James, James,” she cried, “do you hear Cap?” Yes, Mr. Alcott did hear Cap. “Oh, dear, what can be the trouble?” insisted Mrs. Alcott. . “I can’t imagine! But don’t worry dear, its nothing much. I’ll go and see.” And then turning once more to his wife he exclaimed, “Don’t be afraid, it couldn’t be a burglar because the dog is too deaf to hear one and too blind to see one. any- wav he wouldn’t howl like that!” Ah. but there are worse things than burglars! Grabbing his robe, he opened the door into the hall. A terrifying odor greeted him. Turning on the light he ran downstairs. Yes, Cap was still barking. He sounded like a mad dog. Upon entering the hall, Mr. Alcott realized the truth. The downstairs was filled with smoke. He could hear wood crackling. Opening the door which led to the cellar. Cap came dashing out and dames leaped into Mr. Alcott’s face. The whole cellar was a mass of dames. Cap went running through the whole house barking his loudest, wakening everyone. “Jane, Jane,” cried Mr. Alcott, “grab the chil- dren and run; it is too late to save anything. Run

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TO TitWA fTT kt+tiYKM t n pp x I V LITERARY TTfft7-N FMW VPIn—TMYtM w}HW| [Pwn I nftW SrV'V ‘Z C2,'V 2 mm ONE MORE NIGHT “Here, here, what’s all the excitement about?” demanded Mr. Alcott, walking over to his little daughter, Betty. “Now don’t cry, dear, tell Daddv what the trouble is?” “M-m-other says she’s going to kill Cap. She said she wouldn’t have a sick dog around any longer.” Then looking up to her father with eves that carried sympathy for her long-loved, deaf and half-blinded dog, she managed to say: “Oh. Daddy, you won’t let her kill him. will you Daddy, please!” And then again she burst into sobs of grief. The question concerning Cap’s future had been presenting itself for many weeks. Poor old fellow, now ready to reach his tenth birthday, was sick, al- most blind, and getting deaf. When he was young, one of those healthy, intelligent, playful airedales, he was brought into the happy house of the Alcotts. He had lived a pleasant life—for a dog; but now he was growing old—as we all dc—and Mr. and Mrs. Alcott had thought it best to put him out of his mis- ery. This decision did not seem just to the children. Their hearts were broken and even the thought of it made them sob. Just two months ago the happy family had received a baby, so their Mother had tried to explain to the children that they would have to find another home for Cap. in order to make room for their new sister. But this was by no means an easy thing to do. Cap had grown up with the chil- dren and they had learned to love him. He romped with them, played with them, and guarded the chil- dren from harm. Every morning he had pulled the children to school on their sleds and waited for them to be dismissed. Ah, but now poor Cap had grown old and could no longer enter into their games and sports. But somehow a stronger love than ever had grown up between Cap and the children. The older he grew the warmer place he had in the hearts of the children.

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before it is too late! I’ll get the baby.” Running to the baby’s room, he opened the door. It was a mass of suffocating smoke. Dimly through the smoke he saw what he thought to be an empty crib. Mother had got the baby! Choking, and dizzy from the smoke, he tried to close the door leading to the room, but tripped and fell. There, weak and worn out, he lost consciousness. ‘‘Mother, Mother, where’s Daddy and sister?” cried one of the children outside of the burning house. Mrs. Alcott screamed in terror. Where were Daddy and baby? All the neighbors had gathered around but no one dared go into the burning house. No one was asked to go! A low, piercing cry came from the baby’s room. Cap stopped barking raised his head high into the air and jerked up his ears. It was his master’s child who called him. He must go? In an instant he went dashing into the mass of flames. Everybody turned their heads. Cap was the only one who did his duty. Up the stairs and into baby’s room he ran, running over Mr. Alcott’s unconscious body. Taking the child’s clothes in his mouth, he pulled her out of bed. Getting a tighter grip on her nightgown, he ran faster than he had ever run before, for he had another duty to perform. Making his way through the smoke, he reached the outside. Dropping the baby at Mrs. Alcott’s feet, he made for the house again. Up to his master he ran, performing a duty that a human being would have hesitated to do. The flames had almost sur- rounded him. With difficulty the dog ran through them, dragging his master to the stairs. He pulled and pulled, but in vain. At last he emitted a terrify- ing howl. The crowd outside hung their heads. Howl after howl the crowd heard. At last Mr. Alcott opened his eyes. Getting up. he leaned against the wall, and realizing where he was, he went tumbling down the stairs and was soon outside. It was too late for Cap to run down the stairs. He ran to the window and gave a leap into the air, and fell to the ground. But poor Cap did not know of the tears of gratitude and joy that were shed over him—Cap’s troubles were over—his last night had been a glorious and a heroic one. MARY CAMPBELL, ’26. THE TWO ORPHANS The large car of the Wainwright family could be seen speeding along the streets between the de- pot at Millington and the Wainwright home. Its occupants were Mrs. Wainwright with her sister’s orphaned children. Jeanne and Ted Norton. Mrs. Wainwright was driving the car and the two young people were enjoying their ride very much. They talked but little, for they were interested in the scenery. They had formerly lived in a small town and coming to Millington to live was quite an event. They were suddenly brought from their en- chantment by hearing Mrs. Wainwright’s soft voice saying: “Now that we’re home, I hope you’ll have a nice time.” “Oh ! we can never thank you enough for having us come here to live, Aunt Mae,” said dark-haired Jeanne. “Don’t worry about our having a good time. We’ll never get used to all these beautiful things,” she added, as she gazed at the house and lawn before her. “Oh, yes you will, Jeanne. Ted will like it, too, but we must go into the house now and you can get ready for lunch. Oh, Estelle, come here a minute.