Westwood High School - Chipmunk Yearbook (Westwood, CA)

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THE CHIPMUNK Page Twenty-five PRIZE SENIOR HIGH SCHOOL STORY CURIOSITY WINS THE DAY Romany fires burn brightly any time, any place, any where, but the flashing eyes and gleaming hair of one Juanita made them seem the brighter. Juanita’s family wandered, as all gipsy families do, forever on and on. Wherever they roved, Juanita, with her tambourine, danced to the wild Hungarian melodies of her brother’s ancient violin. Her mother was dead, but the old grand-mother told fortunes, while the father passed the hat. A carefree life is a happy life, and gipsy life is carefree. When one is happy, one finds time to sing, to love, and to be beautiful. Juanita was beautiful. The tawny skin and raven hair of Hungarian plains were hers, enhanced by shining teeth, and great black eyes. A drizzling rain was falling as the little group plodded, about dusk, into a small mid-western town. They were hungry, tired, and dirty, and a gipsy is never too welcome. There could be no dancing tonight, and there was little money in their pockets. “Perhaps”, said old Pedro, the father, “we can beg a little food. We no can buy it without the mon, and we no can dance tonight.” With that he left the camp. That was the last seen of old Pedro. Next morning all was bright and sunny except three gipsy hearts. They were hungry, and old Pedro had not returned. “I will hunt for him,” volunteered Carlo, Juanita’s handsome brother. “Oh, Carlo,” cried Juanita, “do find him, and, yourself, do not disappear. Do bring us some food”. At that Carlo also left the camp. He was gone for hours, nor had he yet returned when, toward noon, a band of irate people came upon them unexpectedly and carried Juanita and her grand-mother off to a dirty, smelly jail. Hearing a great racket outside and the cries of many people, “Lynch them! Lynch them!” Juanita asked the jailor who it was they wished to lynch. “You, Scum of the Earth.” On being asked why, he replied angrily. “For killing old Doc Benson last night. Don’t try to be so in- nocent.” “Killing---------------” Juanita stopped. She could not realize what had happened. After a long while she again spoke to the jailor. “And my father, where is he?” “Your father? What the..... do you think I know about your old man? Shut up. Don’t talk to me anymore.” On going to the little village near which they were staying, old Pedro was forced to go through muddy country lanes. In the pitch black of a field near by, he saw a figure hurriedly passing from one sheltering fence post to another. Being by instinct a curious person, he left the road and followed this suspicious creature. The man, for Pedro was now convinced that it was a man, slinked from post to post

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Page Twenty-four THE CHIPMUNK Literary

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Page Twenty-six THE CHIPMUNK and later from tree to tree as he reached a thinly wooded area. Pedro noticed that he carried a small satchel which seemed to be quite heavy. The rain had stopped hours ago. Just as the first faint grey light of dawn shone over the distant hills they came to an old, apparently deserted cabin. The man entered, and Pedro crept to a window. The man, whom Pedro noticed to be moving his lips as though talking to himself, lifted a board in the floor and drew out a bag, the contents of which he poured on to the rickety table. The money, for money it was, he greedily counted. Pedro listened carefully and heard the man say. “Ten thousand dollars. Now for this.” He opened the small black satchel, on which were printed in large gold letters, the words, “Samuel Benson, M. D.” Old Pedro, by this time, was very hungry, and daylight had brok- en the spell of the night. Following the footsteps, he reached the road and started for the camp to tell what had happened before he went to town. Perhaps Juanita could dance now so he would not have to beg. When he reached the camp, he found it deserted, and in the soft mud were the footprints of many people. He searched and called, but no one appeared, so he started to town, running as best he could. The first person he saw was a woman with a small child. He asked if she had seen any of the little group, but she simply gathered the child in her arms and ran away. Soon a group of men grabbed him and threw him into jail. The day of the trial finally arrived. The little family, long since thrown into the same cell, were one after the other taken to the wit- ness stand. Old Pedro was last. When he had told his story, the people were of the mind that he lied, and believed him guilty of the murder. “Kill him! Kill him! He killed Doctor Benson.” Pedro’s lawyer was a young man, just admitted to the bar. He finally convinced the judge that it would be only fair to see if what Pedro told were true, and that if the rest of the band were left in jail there would be little chance for his escape. Pedro, well guarded with both lawyers and the judge at his side and the jury at his heels, quickly led the way to the cabin. Upon enter- ing, the man was found in bed. With no explanation, Pedro went to the loose board and removed money bag, and satchel. Then he again told how he had stood outside in the drizzling rain and watched. When hard pressed, the thief admitted having murdered Doctor Benson and was promptly hanged on the nearest tree. Such is the course of the law. Old Pedro was given a reward of five thousand dollars, and he was asked to stay in the village. We are told by old witnesses that later the handsome young lawyer wooed and wed the black-eyed Juanita, but that is another story. Faith Mullen ’30.