Willard Middle School - Target Yearbook (Berkeley, CA)

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8 THE TARGET THE ABANDONED TRAIL. Through wildering forests of primeval trees, Untrod by man or beast, a lonely trail Winds in and out; and the perennial breeze Doth whisper weirdly an unwritten tale Of him who fought with neither lance nor mail. In nature ' s paths he trod and learned her art; And when on his last voyage he set sail And did from wigwam and from friends depart, The hope of happy hunting grounds upheld his heart. WINIFRED WISHARD. JOVE AIDS. I was in the smoke to be sure but I had yet to get into the smother. Where was I? Among whom? What had I to do? The Indians in the southern desert country were now revolting against the authority of the whites. Treacher- ous deeds were being enacted by the burly chief and his band. No white man ' s life was his own. The whole country, like a sea of threatening wat- ers, was surging and tossing under the direction of this one fearless man. He was the cause of it all and it was my commission to put an end to him. How I was to accomplish this, I knew no more than perhaps my read- er knows at this moment, but it was my business to set about and find a way. This was inded an adventurous period in my life and one to be long remembered. Taking no companion with me and traveling by night, I made my way into the fatal land, hardly expecting ever to return. Stopping one night with an old rancher, who had grown to know and understand the red-men, I learned of a conclave which was to be held on the following day. Here was the chance of my life ! Keeping my intentions from my host, I made preparations for the final plunge. The sky was overcast and huge black clouds were to be seen coming from the mountains. Know- ing the desert, I saw at once signs of a terrific storm. This might help me in my purpose! It did — and in a strange way. The storm came one fiercer. Above the din I could now and again hear the yells of the assembling men ever coming nearer. Finally a loud peal of thunder broke as from the depths of the earth. At that moment a great light flashed at my right and a huge tree came crashing down. Rushing to the spot, I found — stretched upon the ground at my feet — the fearless chief and the one object of my quest! MARIE MYERS. WHAT A PICTURE TOLD ME. Drawn up in bright array at the top of the hill three thousand knights stood waiting for the word, Charge! Above them floated dull, gray clouds which softened the glare of the red roofs of the houses below. The steeds upon which they were mounted pawed the ground in rest- lessness. At last the word Charge! sent a thrill through all. Down the hill with spears abreast they went. As the spears struck the enemy, a road was plowed through the opposing phalanx scattering the soldiers in every direction. Suddenly the general shouted Halt! The day is ours. HOWARD BROWN. John Madden (to Fred Edinger with guitar case) : Why did you bring your tennis raquet to school?

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THE TARGET 7 An avalanche, Philip thought, terror depicted in every line of his face. He rushed down in leaps and bounds, but the avalanche rolled steadily on and with a last feeble cry, Philip sank to the ground. In a few minutes he was buried underneath the great white, hurling mass, never to be seen again. LILIAN McHOUL. BOB ' S EXPERIENCE. Come on, Skip, said Bob to his dog, let ' s hang this flag on that large tank over there where the windmill stands. Skip barked his approval and they started off. The tank house had a narrow ledge around it, and the tank rested on top of this platform. Bob climbed up, and when on top began to walk around the ledge. While he was fas- tening the flag his foot slipped, and he commenced to fall; but, as he fell, he clutched the strong folds of the flag, for it had caught in the hook. Bob began to feel his head swim, but he held on to the flag as tightly as he could. In spite of all he did, he felt his hands slipping. Skip ' s barks became fainter and fainter to him. Just then Skip ran toward the house as fast as his short legs could carry him. When he got there he barked and barked until Bob ' s father followed him back to the tank house . Just as Bob was about to let go, he felt strong arms pulling him up to safety and taking him to a nice warm bed. And that was how the gallant Skip saved his master ' s life. ELDON NICHOLS. DAWN. Fresh as a rose, the dawn flushed over the earth, Spreading, o ' er valley, brook and sea and hill, Colors, which starry night that had given it birth, Could not lend, in her watch o ' er ocean, meadow and hill, To leafy, moonlit wood, or farmhouse still— A vivid blush that charmed the morning air. Which joyously answered back with rosy thrill; While earth ' s flowering beauties, dewey, frail and fair, Opened their timid eyes, and breathed a morning prayer. NANCY LLOYD. CONCERNING CLOCKS. Francoise I, king of France, fam- ous for fault-finding had a very skill- ful clock maker who was sometimes put to unnecessary trouble because of the king ' s temper. One day the king ordered a beautiful clock made, and exactly on the appointed day he received it, to all appearances abso- lutely perfect. No matter how hard he tried, the king could find no fault with it. In those days the people made num- ber four on a clock IV just as they wrote it. The king noticing the numeral, saw an opportunity for criticism. He insisted that it should have been written IIII. The clock- maker replied that it was the custom to write it IV, but then observing the king ' s set face, he knew he would either have to change the clock or lose his head. So ever after the num- eral IIII instead of IV has been used on clocks. NATALIE RAYMOND.

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THE TARGET 9 A BETTER STORY. A big party of men once went up to the Williamson ' s ranch to hunt and fish. I was invited over from a neigh- boring farm to visit these sportsmen as I was to guide some ' of them the following day to a little creek. After supper was over, the men be- gan to tell stories. This was kept up till Colonel Peters told of a bear fight he had once with an old grizzly. This eclipsed the others so far that no one had even enough courage to attempt to go him one better. Finally an old Indian fighter reck- oned he could beat that story. Every one was laughing to himself for he had a reputation for stretching an idea as far as he could and he took no particular pains to make his gram- mar good. Well, it was like this: — When we were fighting the Modocs, one of their chiefs came into camp to make peace. After this was done, he pro- ceeded in true Indian fashion to lay his hand on anything he saw. He walked up to where I was frying some eggs and hooked on to my gun which was a beautv. I hit bi n with a fried f egg, that being the worst in- sult I thought you could offer an In- dian. Instead of shooting me he list tarned and walked away with a deen scowl on his face. I knew that I would have tarnation to pay. A few days later while I was washing myself down at a river, I saw him coming with an infernal mob of painted heathens. When he spied me, he let out a Minnehaha and started after me. Well you can jist bet I started up that river at a terrible pace. Finally I had to stop as a water-fall was in front of me. Here the old hunter paused to see what an effect his speech had made on the audience. Did you hide or swim under wat- er down stream? asked Colonel Peters, who thought he had easily guessed the end of the story. Neither, was the reply. Well what did you do? Seeing that I had been washing myself, I took the soap and made a lather. With this, I constructed a bridge and climbed over the water- fall, after greasing the bridge so the Indians couldn ' t use it. DONALD KITZMILLER. CALIFORNIAS ' VOLCANO. Mount Lassen was always complete- ly covered with lovely, white snow. At sunset it was wonderful; beautiful hues of rose, golden and violet gleam- ed on the snow. One hot sultry morning my sister came rushing in. Just come out and look at Mt. Lassen! she exclaimed, it ' s in erup- tion. I went out into the street where several other people were watching the mountain with telescopes and field glasses. It certainly was won- derful; the thick, black smoke was puffing out of the crater in huge columns. The eruption continued at intervals during the day and in the evening. When I looked out at it again I saw instead of a snowy white mountain, an ashy gray one. Either the snow had been covered up by the ashes or had been melted by the heat; but the mountain has never looked quite so snowy and white since as it did before the eruption. DOROTHY ANDREWS.