Wethersfield High School - Elm Yearbook (Wethersfield, CT)

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LIONIZED For some years an adventurous spirit had urged me to become an explorer of the regions little known, and the opportunity for a trip to Africa having presented itself, no time was lost on my part in making a hurried departure for that lost continent. It had been raining all day in the tropical fashion, heavy outbursts of showers subsiding to intermittent downpours, to terminate in sunshine which was only deception, and turned to rain again as soon as We left our comfortable shelters. We were out for lions. Anyhow, my native guide was particularly expectant, but whether animals would venture out in the bad weather was a question. We beat up hill and cross heavy growth brakes, but found nothing. Then we entered a specially dark section of the brush, as was our CLlSt0m. Anyhow I began to semi-circle the area, coming up on opposite sides of the marsh. Suddenly, not three yards in front of me, I heard a low growl, and looking through the tangled Creepers, I saw one of the biggest lions on which it has ever been my opportunity to gaze. What to do? The beast commenced to lash its tail, its anger mounted. With a savage snarl, and muscles tensed, slithering jaws opened and hooked talons extended so as to make the most of a golden opportun- ity, the beast sprang at me. High and handsomely it lunged, just as I, with an instinctive movement, slid face forward to the ground. Faintly, I noticed that the lion had passed high over my head, and landed in the bushes beyond. All was silent for several moments, then curiosity prompted me to crawl back in the direction in which the beast had disappeared. Quietly I approached a small clearing, and there, with a perfect expression of humility and disgust on its face was the lion-practicing low jumps! E. Malcolm Sftllllillfd, ,28. THE LOVE OF A FATHER High in the sky the sun, a mass of molten copper, Beat mercilessly down upon the desert town, Algiers. A man dressed in the uniform of the French Foreign Legion, gazed out across the burning sands. A man free after five years in the legion of the damned, free to go his way across the sea to a far off country. Birds were singing in the trees and on the broad blue bay a thousand sparkling lights reflected the glory of the sunset, but in the heart of Jerry Sloane was the blackness of despair, the terrible thirst for vengeance of an innocent man who had suffered at the hands of one whom he had trusted. Deep in Jerry's heart burned a stifling hatred for his father. A hatred born of a fiery indignation and a deep humiliation. His father had sent him to the Foreign Legion, this much he knew, and in his un- reasoning fury, he cared not nor reasoned why. There was not much for him to live for now, with his father turned against him and his brother dead. He choked and a sob broke in his throat as he thought of the brother he had adored. Handsome as a

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Seing me speechless, his white beard lifted in a contempuous sneer. He turned, pressed a button, a door sprang open, and a full grown lion with bristling mane burst into the room. He roared! I tried to emit a shrill cry of acute terror, but my throat only swelled and strained. My vocal cords were paralyzed! Then the lights went out! After one more hungry, ferocious rqar the beast was as silent as a grave. His unblinking, baleful eyes stole round me and I, hypnotized, followed them. He leaped! I swayed and fell, but somehow I could not faint. The jungle cat's foul hot breath fanned my face but, miraculously, he did not touch me with his cruel claws or fangs. Go, Cato. Just one peremptory command and the lion slunk away. The lights went on and I rose to my feet, white and shaken after my fearful ordeal. Braver than the rest, but my theory is based on rock foundationf, was all this unbelievable creature said, but he added with a hair raising shriek, The next must not fail. Two men entered the room. I ran to them, gazing at them in mute appeal. The Terror laughed a mirthless laugh from behind the steel bars. No use, no use, he croaked. They have no tongues, their ear drums are pierced, and when I operated their minds went -and he snapped his fingers. They led me, too weak to resist, into another room. I was laid on a platform, face upwards and strapped there. Gazing dumbly to the ceiling. my mind vaguely recorded that directly above me a section of the ceiling was studded with long knives. My God, that section was moving down upon me! Ten feet above me I saw the evil, distorted face of The Terror gazing down at me through a foot square glass win- dow. He was riding down to my death on his instrument of torture! I was unable to yell for mercy or helpg even if I could have done so it would have been useless. If only I could mash that gloating face into pulp, even as it was about to witness me so mashed. I gave a violent heave! N0 avail. The face was Hve feet above me! Four feet of life now left to me! I gurgled inarticulately! Must those fatal knives pierce me? I offered up a prayer. The face of The Terror faded. The first prick of the knives! The stab of death! Oblivion- My eyes fluttered open. I immediately closed them for they were dazzled by streaming sunlight. Where had The Terror gone? Was this Heaven? I was convinced that it was. That pure sweet smell of clean- liness could issue from no other place. But no-a low, well modulated voice was speaking. You'll be all right now, old boy. You saved the young man, but the beastly truck battered you up pretty badly. Automobile accident? Then this was a hospital! And The Terror? Only a figment of my delirium! -Charles Towne, ,30. I in A

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young God, Jim Sloane was the center of Jerry Sloane's lifeg Jerry, who had never been adored and whose weak body could never stand the strain of too great exertion. He had never understood his brotheris death. No one would tell him much about it. He had died while Jerry was in Algiers. Pneu- monia they had said. But Jerry would never believe them. Pneumonia could never kill Jim. Slowly he made his way through the streets at once so strange and so familiar, seeing not where he went, his vengeful spirit leading him on. His father had been a lawyer, successful and in the prime of life. Now Jerry found him a broken old man, his practice gone and his hair turned white by the burden of many sorrows. The old man looked up as Jerry entered the room where he was. His eyes brightened and he said simply, I'm glad to see you, son. He had seemed happy, but his expression changed at the look in Jerry's eyes. Son, I know why youlve comeg I've been expecting you. I've blundered and done wrong, but I did it all for you. I'1l have to start way back when you and Jim were boys together. You were always the weak one and you loved Jim far above all else in life. I knew that. When you were young, he fought your battles for you, and always he was near in trouble. One thing he could never do. Jim was not able to draw that fine line between right and wrong which marks the man of integrity. Jim was a fine lad, nothing can alter that, but he had not your judgment and discretion. A few weeks before I sent you to the Foreign Legion, Jim got into troubleg somehow, I never asked him about it, and he never told me. His associates have never been of the best, that much I knowg he got mixed up in a gambling dispute of some kind and in fit of anger shot and killed a man. I knew he would be convictedg there was no way out. I wanted to keep you in ignorance of your brother's crime, son, and I knew then as I know now that you would never forget your father's name. I wanted to put you where no knowledge of your brother's dis- honorable death could reach you, and in doing this I, myself, sinned. Man can only do the right as God gives him to see the right, and in the blindness of my love for you, I sinned. My own sacrifice has been nothing. I tried to keep the faith of one son whole, I failed, but no matter, I tried. People call me a failure. Perhaps they are right. But no man is entirely a failure who has tried to do his best by those he loved. The old man fell silent, and a tide of love and shame forever banished the shades of doubt from Jerry's heart. He looked out of the open win- dow. Twilight was falling, and a glorious sunset trailed its last bright banner down the western sky. God's sunset made beautiful by the promise of a new day to follow. -Barbara Wells, '28. L V ,, H- - 1