Westport High School - Herald Yearbook (Kansas City, MO)

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' ' ' L 'F' E' f' -'. f --ls.-...sf..i2if .:.s j Q., his aj -mg -.-, - -5 H- I .i . ' : E9 I ri. a ad eh a ad ut is, ze, of Jr, ad, nd en Je- .ed W1 S lne ow air lgh ov- 1-on ige L I A the low ing Lion ors, and MY still en- Jok- ked, me Jaby ght, ran' t ne. and 77 THE WESTPORT SCHOOL HERALD. 5 lim feeling like a. kid, thank you. I came across you and your house, just as the fairy prince always discovers the giant in the midst of a thick woods, when he is ready to die of fatigue? I laughed up into his great, gentle face and he laughed back at me. C'My name 's Sandersonf' he announced at last, and yours, Winthrop. I found some of your cards in your vest pocketjp and once more he sawed my arm up and down until I fairly cried for mercy. 'CI should know better. You 've a fierce cold on your lungs. I'm sure I ought to know that you a.re weak, and I don't want you to have a spell of illness up here in these woods? Frowning, he stalked over to the fire and threw on some fresh lo-gs. It's a fearfully cold day and Ijve had poor luck-got only a wolf' and a red fox. Never mind, thoughj' he seemed to address himself, I 'll do better to-morrow. If you 'll excuse me, I'll go and get an armful of wood. He left me alone, greatly puzzled, for I couldnit imagine a trapper in this will country so well educated as this man ap- peared to be. I finally fell asleep, however, and did not awaken until after nightfall. 'CWell, I must say, you 're a fine one, to go to sleep on a fellow when yo-u are the first white man he 's seen since sum- mer. Here, drink this, it 's hot, and-he handed me a cup of steaming broth, which I consumed in less time than it takes to tell it. That was fine, I volunteered, so you 're a cook among your other accom- plishmentsf' He laughed and said that his experience was limited to forest fare and that he did not believe any but the furtive folkv would really appreciate his talent. e For a while neither of us spoke, but I suppose I must have looked curious for he smiled across at me and said, I sup- pose you Wonder who I am. Well, Itve no objections to your knowing that I'm just plain Doc Sanderson, of Razor Back, trapper by choice and by necessity. I am no prince in disguise and no millionaire leading the simple life? I laughed and glanced unconsciously at the worn volumes of Shakespeare and Dickens. Yes, I pm fond of a good book now and then. I can appreciate a. bit of Pickwickis nonsense, or a few of Little Dorrittis tears. Now, no more questionsfi A week passed and for awhile my cold seemed to be settling deeper upon my lungs, but Doc,7' with his knowledge of herbs, helped me so much that I began to recover. ,He wouldn't allow me to step outside the door, so I dwelt happily within, read- ing and day-dreaming. Our evening conversations never touched upon Sanderso-n's past, and al- though I told him mine, he seemed to prefer history and trapping. One night we sat la.te before the fire while the snow was falling outside, and the cosiness of the interior with the bright open fire, seemed to breed oheerfulness and conversation-so it was nearly eleven when we said good night.. My host insisted upon my sleeping before the fire, while he slept in the kitchen. On this particular night, after he had left me, I sat for some time be- fore the fire, wondering how soon I could get away-not that I wanted to go, but that the law demanded that I spend at least one night in the year upon my claim. I counted the days left in the year and decided this must be ,Christmas Eve and that to-morrow would be Christmas Dav. I began picturing to myself the .down town streets at home, the rushing, jug- gling, good-natured host of Christmas shoppers, and the gaily lighted shop win- dows. How I longed to be there-there is something so peculiarly alluring about a crowd of holiday shoppers. Then I thought of the children and their dreams of Santa Claus. I almost wished that I were a. child again, or at least that I might play Santa Claus. Just at that point the loneliness of my host came into my mind, and I deter- mined to surprise him. . .. . - - - -- -- ,, ,. - - ' ..--..f.-,..........-..,..-.,6L ha nf-.. ..: .. 'iw J ' V R. , y-...ln44.i-. V ..A .f-....: -,..4....-1.--1--.-f..

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f W ,,...-S:a..k.s.:.z-1.-ef-easigsausdizia. P-P -'I-r eff:-111 . A--sz-gngasgeenqu-:gvfp9guw,pzfrAezer4 - --uv' 4 THE WESTPORT HIGH SCHOOL HERALD. most admirably. I had never attributed to my disposition a poetic side, but I am sure it was only the poetic which could have turned that forest into so many strange and fantastic designs. The snow had begun to fall and was making rapid progress in trans-forming the landscape. First, I noticed the sim- ilarity between my surroundings and a scene in a-musical fantasy that I had seen the week before 5 there were the same tree trunks with the miniature drifts at their sides, and overhead the branches met in just the way those on the stage had done. Then I became aware of the fact that this forest might have been Spen- seris fcForest of Error, only I could not remembers' any snow in the latter. Then I noticed the whiteness of the trail before me, and I remembered hav- ing attended a wedding somewh-ere in the misty past, where the aisles had been carpeted with pure white canvas, and in- voluntarily I began to search out the rest of the picture. A sudden turn in the trail ahead of me left the dead trunk o-f a tree which had fallen in the shape of an arch across the trail as the entrance of the chancel, it was easy to make an altar of gray marble from the trunks of three trees directly beyond. Branches of Arbor Vitw covered with snow, made gar- lands and festoons all about my imagin- ary cathedral. Then in the melancholy music of the wind in the branches above me, I could pla.inly detect the notes of a wedding ina.rch. The twigs of the shrubs and the aspen trees were nodding and bending in the wind, just like so many human beings in their pews, twist- ing and turning to catch the Hrst glimpse of the bride-elect. It is well that my physical being in- terfered then, or I might have seen the bride, a snow queen, probably, and per- haps I should have married her, right there and then in the cold forest, had it not been that a fierce gust of wind cut harshly against my face and brought me back to earth. After this the miles seemed longer and I was numb with coldg my feet seemed two lifeless stones wnich I lifted and pulled after me. My nose and hands were cold, too, and finally I began to believe that my brain was frozen. All at once I became conscious of a possible shelter which suddenly appeared in the road. I knew there was- no such hut on my own claim. I had built a decent shack of logs, for I had expected to use it during the game season-but this was a cabin of small dimensions, with a chimney from which issued smoke, real smoke, that told of the presence of a wo-od fire. I donpt know how I got to the door, but evidently I did, for it was opened, and I remember being lifted inside and carried like a baby across the room. Then everything was blackfa curtain fell be- tween life and me. When I next opened my eyes, it seemed that I had been asleep for hours. I was lying comfortably upon a couch of pine wood, and beneath my head was a pillow of pine needles, which flavored the air with their sweet -dreamy perfume. The room wa.s small, the walls rough plastered, and the floor of split logs, cov- ered with furs and skins. A table upon which were a few well-worn books, a huge armchair, and the couch upon which I was lying, were the only furnishings. A bright fire of birch logs burned in the large brick fireplace and cast a warm glow over everything. All this I coul-d see without turning my head, but by a slight. shift in po-sition I discovered that there were two doo-rs, one an entrance into another room and the other evidently the outside -door. My observations were b-rought to a standstill by the opening of the latter and the en- trance of my benefactor. f'Well, well, I 'ni glad to see you look- ing so spry. How are you ?', he asked, striding across the floor and grasping me by the hand. You've been sleeping like a baby ever since I got you to bed last night, and here it 's afternoon again. You canit think how inquisitive you ,ve made mef' All this, as he pumped my arm up 111141 down. I 4 as gia he fac at son an: dow fiei oug d oi UP sta fre hat fox adi If 3I'Il I c cor pea not to the me hai I c tell yor pl if his ant fu tale I s he pos no jus tra' . . . ...f 9.4, ..:.:.:, .::g,,.,::1..5,,:V'4.,:, -V: vu, --up 55' .QU .pi.q.wA:wJ:6- 1 In is - F ,W A MK- Y - -- -' .-1-1.-....-....f-mfr-vs: apmgiivqzdiq ,I ,-gf, ,,, W za: H i. KH, A F g - '--- ----mwah -4.1 ..... ...-...-....... ...-.,.,..,4...,..,....,g..s,,g,:gf1 . - vs.,

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5 THE WESTPORT HIGH SCHOOL HERALD. I slipped my coat over my shoulders, carefully unlocked tne door, and stepped outside. I ha.d seen a small fir tree just beyond the window, so I groped about until I found it, and then with Sander- sonps own knife I cut it down. I crept back into the house and succeeded in set- ting the tree up on the table, then I fum- bled in my suit case until I found a new handkerchief and a pair of cuff buttons, and although I did not know what San- -derson would do with the latter, I had to use what I had, as the nearest store was about ninety miles away. The tree was just ready when 'fDoc,' opened his door and came oat. C'Well, why in thunder donjt you go to bed ?' he demanded crossly-but just then he caught sight of the little tree and paused with a gasp, as though a cold 'wave had suddenly knocked him under. Merry Christmas in I cried, wishing to change his pained expression to one of joy. Merry Christmas Ii' he answered, but his tonie was anything but joyful-- an-d-his eyes threatened tears. p Winthrop, I thank youf' he mur- mured, while he grasped my two hands and held them tightly, then he motioned me to the couch and drew his chair up beside it before the fire. f'Boy, Ijll telliyou a storyf' he said. I remained silent and he went on. t'It was exactly ten years ago the twelfth of this month, that I came up' here on my honeymoon with the dearest girl in the world as my wife. She was beautiful, too, with a soul as sweet as her face. We came to this little hut, way up here in the wilds, because she loved it as dearly as I did. we had spent one happy sum- mer here as sweethearts, and the winter honeymoon promised to be a great deal happier. We had been married in Chi- cago and had run away fro-m the bridal party-no one but her mother knew where we were, a.nd We spent the first ten days up her in perfect bliss. Then she-her name was Helena-was taken sick with -i fearful cold, and with all my knowledge of medicine, nothing was of any use, and she died on the night of the twenty-fourth, Christmas live, our first Christmas Eve, here in this very room on that very couch. Well, I buried her as she wished, lse- neath a great white birch tree 'down there to the south. It was the tree beneath which she had consented to be my wife, and our initials were carved upon its trunk. After that, l walked to the rail- road and sent a message to her mother. t'The rest of our friends I didnjt seem to care about, and after awhile I forgot them, and I suppose they forgot me. I couldnjt go back to them without Helena, so I just took up the life of a trapper, a back wofodsman, with only one past and these books of hers for company. Well, ten years have lessened the sharpness of my sorrow and I've begun to make the best. of life, but Christmas Eve has lost its joy for nie, for .l. can always see Hel- ena as she looked so many, many years ago. But somehow, to-night I feel a little more cheerful. I 'ni glad you came, Win- throp. I believe I ,ve been doing wrong all these years, nursing my sorrow and neg- lecting my life work. Perhaps it was wrong. I should have made something of myself. I should have done some good in the world instead of moping away up here alone. IJll begin Sunday. Iill go back to the world and make my life worth living. Thank you again, my boy-and yet-D His head had fallen forward and his eyes looked dreamily into space. Helena, my poor little girl--poor lit- tle girl-'9 His voice was almost inaud- ible. I did not speak and the fire before us Hickered and died out, until only a few live coals smouldered among the white ashes. Uatlzerine Ware, 707, l P3 V Sc T1 Ci Pi Sc Ai Sc ni sei ye ha m a wc th na wl ha ve ,1 . . . . . ., . , -....1...-eg--1-4....:a5a...'1:-:.a..g.g4,4:,.,:,:5:,l,Ya5,,g:AQaNu'gum Nl -A f pq - Ax M Y A : V ---0-a'-nc,M.:.,:..:.,i..4,,,, V is Y.. V .. . . . , . - , ---..--...J-.........,.,., ..,,, -req.: .