Westmoorland College - Lupine Leaflet Yearbook (San Antonio, TX)

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12 LUPINE LEAFLET The Traitor U U U Gladys Hassell Tony sat on the ground, and dug his dirty little toes into the sand as he gazed reproachfully at a dirty little dog. You've gone back on me, Fib , he said. You ain't played fair. Despite the remarkable amount of human understanding that Fib possessed, he knitted his brows and wagged his tail perplexedly. The little boy continued, Jest because the cops hooked the old man, and we ain't got no 'place to stay nor nothin, to eat, you don't want to go with me no more. I guess you wanta stay. here an' hang aroun' Mis! Glanty's back door so she'll throw you some more bones, do you? Well. you can stay all right! You ain't my dog no more! You ain't my dog no more! No more, d'ye hear? - The little boy began to cry, and sank back, digging his toes deeper and deeper into the sand. The dog, with a bound, was beside the child, frantically licking his bare knee, which showed through a large rent in his faded and patched overalls. No , the child wailed as he roughly pushed him away, you ain't my dog no more. You've went back on me onct, but you ain't goin' to no more. I guess you don't remember how I took you in out of the cold, and cured you of the mange when it an' the fleas had almost et you upg and how you an' me hid under the back stairs when the old man would come home on one of his big drunks. An' after all o' that you've went back on me. You're worse'n the old man, Fib, you ain't got no honor! But you'd rather stay on'- Here Fib began to paw at his little master, and in his yelpings and barkings, he seemed to implore forgiveness for his inconstancy, but Tony was ruthless. Oh, you needn't try to spring any 0' that bunk on me. lt's too late now. When l started to leave the house to-day, after the cops had gone, you didn't want to come from Mis' Glanty's backyard. She had plenty o' bones, an' l didn't have none, so you wanted to stay. O, I seen it in your eyes! I seen it in your eyes! Then the forlorn little boy's sobs broke out afresh, and his ragged, little form shook violently. You been the only thing I had to love since mom died , the child continued. An' now you ain't got no honor. You've went back on me. Oh! I wisht you hadn't come, I wisht mom hadn't died, and I wisht the cops hadn't got the old man! Suddenly realizing that the night was coming on, the little boy rose from the ground, and led his dog away. ' l'll take you over and put you in Mis' Glanty's chicken house, an' then I'll hike out. She'll be tickled pink to git you, au' I don't care. But the little dog, thinking all was well, trotted on happily at his master's side. It was dark when the pair reached Mrs. GIanty's backyard. Tony opened the door of the empty chicken house, and started to push Fib inside. Oh, I can't do it , he whimpered as he crushed the dog to his tense little body. I can't do it. You went back on me, but maybe you wouldn't again. The dog wagged his tail in answer, and as Tony arose, Mrs. Glanty's back door was opened, and a bone was thrown into the yard. Fib gave a yelp, and struggled to free himself from the child's arms. Tony turned, tenderly placed the dog inside the chicken house, and closed the door. Yes, he'd do it again , he said stolidly, and without a backward glance, he turned and trudged off into the night.

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ici e ion iii o U is s Bluebonnets U U U Alice Edwards Can this be a mirror I see The heavens reflected within? So blue was that stately, old hill, l almost believed it had been. So perfect in form was each bloom, Their bonnets were all just the Silllld-+ 'Twas but in a moment I saw l-low the hluebonnet got its name. And you, most beautiful flower, Are chosen from all of the rest As the name of our magazine For which we must all do our best. l-low well does the gold vase suit you! Oh, lift high your shy, pretty face! For l and the others assure you, Your beauty has won you your place.

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LUPINE LEAFLET 13 Old Strad I Ruby Baugh Uncle Nic's little cabin was almost hidden in a great cluster of weeping willow trees. There was never a more beautiful picture than it formed on this particular evening. The sun was sinking slowly behind the hills, and it threw a mystic, bewitch- ing light down the little path that led to the doorway. There, in his low rocking chair, on the corner of his tiny porch, Uncle Nic sat, and talked softly to his dog or to himself. An artist would have called the picture Evening, The little hut, so old that the logs were falling apart, seemed to belong with the snowy locks of Uncle Nic, even the dog at his feet was old and bony, the weeping willow seemed bowed and weary from years of service. Across his lap, Uncle Nic held a violin, he was stroking it tenderly as a little girl strokes her cat, and he .was mumbling sweet words of fare- well to it. We done been together des here fifty years, an' mo', but de time am come for us to part. Dere ain't eber been a day passd but what ole Nic has played dese here strings, and he knows ebery tune by heart. lt's done been many a year since Marse Frank gibed you to me to keep 'till he come back. I guess he aiift comin' back no mo' now. He done took mah pretty Little Sunshine away from here when she was young and as tender as a flower, and he brung her back, nigh on ter ten years ago, dead. 1 knowed when he come a courtin, 'round here, dat it would end like dat. Miss Callie warn't eber meant for no rough-neck, white man like him. She made dis here whole plantation dance to her music, and nothin' ain't gone right since Nlarse Frank took her away. He tole me dat he'd come again some day, and take you away, but des here ten years is done passed, and 1 ain't seed hair nor hide ob dat low-down white man yit. I guess he won't eber come no mo'. Nlah poor, pretty Little Sunshine! She loved him so. But youse gwine ter make ole Nick rich. Den he can hab a sho nuff nice tomb-stone put on his Nlarindy's grave, and de cabin fixed, too, meybe. One hundred dollars, you is to fetch me, more'n l'se eber had before in all my life. Dis ole cabin won't be de same with you gone away, but, den, I ain't able to pick no mo' cotton, and l has to hab something to keep me in mah ole age. Youse de only friend dat's left me since mah Marindy died dese twenty years ago. All dese long winter days and evenings, l'se tole dese here strings all dat troubled ole Nic's heart, and dey has always understood. Since l'se too ole to go to de Lord's house on Sundays, I plays de Sabath hymns and sez mah prayers at home. l don't know how l'se gwine ter lib on without you, ole fiddle, but a hundred dollars will keep me till I dief' Two big tears stood in the old darkey's eyes as he talked to the violin, then he tucked it under his chin and began to play softly. Twilight shadows were silently stealing over the plantation. There was not a sound to be heard except Uncle Nic's music. The notes were of a particular clearness and sweetness. For years Uncle Nic's music had been praised for miles around. No one knew that the instrument he used was a Stradivarius, no one except Nlr, Frank and Howard Hinton, the new manager of the plantation. It was he who was to give Uncle Nic a hundred dollars for the almost priceless instrument. Hinton had been on the plantation but a few days before he heard Uncle Nic playing, and he went down to the little cabin to listen. When the old negro had finished, Hinton asked him what kind of a violin he was playing. De Lord only knows, Marse Frank called it 'Old Strad' . Now if you know what dat is? 'Old Strad' did you say? Let me see it, Nic. He examined the violin carefully. Yes, it was really a Stradivarius. He knew that the old negro did not know the worth of the instrument, and he decided to buy it from him. How would you like to sell this old fiddle, Uncle Nic?