Willard Middle School - Target Yearbook (Berkeley, CA)

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be used. Down the canyon they raced. Several times Black King stumbled on the many rocks in the canyon, but the nimble horse always regained his footing. Black Kmg ran as he had never done before. The canyon rapidly broadened into a small valley. At each ranch Dick aroused the inhabitants to their danger. On, on he rode. Black King’s great strength was nearly spent. He threw in his last ounce of reserve speed for a mighty effort to gain the town. Would he make it? He must. His master’s voice commanded him. They reached the town. Dick warned the people and then leaped off Black King to assist them. No lives were lost. The story of Dick Sheridan’s ride on Black King will ever be remembered. The people had learned that thoroughbred horses could be useful even in the cattle country. DORIS WALSH. TO A COLUMBINE Back in the woods, one summer’s day, A boisterous breeze began to play. She stirred the leaves of the trees, as she passed, And she swayed the blades of the long green grass. But she grew gentler, when beneath a pine, She saw a frail little columbine. Who, on her stem, like a dainty maid. When the breeze was softer, lightly swayed. And on her pretty golden hair. So soft and silky, so bright and fair, She wore a wee cap, of the purest red. Which fluttered, and danced, as she tossed her head. The breeze looked long, as she silently thought. What a wonderful thing, God’s skill had wrought, For, though man’s made much, there is none so fine. As the woodland wild flower. Co lumbine! LANETTE SCHEELINE.

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Black King hm!” announced Dick Sheridan to his father. Dick had just returned home from college. He lived on his father’s ranch, the Bar 3. “Dick,” said Mr. Sheridan, “You may keep Black King, but mind you, he will never do you or anyone else any good on a cattle ranch. A hy, he is a race horse, not a broncho!” At this moment the cause of the argument came up to the corral fence where the two men were standing. Black King was a magnificent horse. His coat which was black, glistened like silk in the sun. You could easily see from whence his name was derived. No color but black could be found on him. He was tall and powerful. Hesitatingly he thrust his soft, velvety nose against Dick’s arm. “It’s all right, old boy,” Dick said. “We will keep you. Why I could never part with you!” “Oh he is a wonderful broncho,” laughed Mr. Sheridan as he walked away to the house. “We will soon see,” Dick called after him. The weeks went by. Dick and his horse were the laugh of the country. A race horse being used as a broncho ! Every day he went riding on Black King. Each day Black King grew to love his master more dearly. One day, Dick went riding up the canyon to the huge dam, which furnished the countryside with water. While he was there a cloud-burst occurred. During the storm he stayed in the cabin of the ranger who patrolled the dam. He had not found the ranger at home, but knowing himself welcome, he stayed there. Black King, he put in the stable in back of the cabin. Suddenly the ranger burst in. “My God, Sheridan!” he shouted. “The dam’s going to burst. The whole town of El Rondo will be wiped out, let alone the ranches in its path!” Dick knew it would be impossible for the ranger to ride and warn the people, as his horse was lame. Without a word he ran outside, got Black King, mounted him, and was off. He had been gone for only a few minutes, when he heard the dam burst. The boiling torrents of water rushed down the canyon behind him. Dick knew that now all of Black King’s strength and speed must AD, I tell you I won’t stay here unless you will allow me to keep Black King! What does it matter if he is a thoroughbred? He isn’t for work! I got him to ride! He’s my horse and I’ll keep

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Dolls vs. Dogs AH ILLY sat on the edge of a huge cracker box and meditated. By her side lay Lily May, an ancient rag doll whose sawdust in- terior was fast sprinkling over the edge of the box to the ground. As she kicked the box very hard, the last remnants of sawdust fell and Lily May was only an empty gingham form. She looked at Lily May’s remains and then at the ground — then back at Lily May again, with amazement all over her dusky face. How thoughtless it was of Lily to act so when she knew Tilly was all alone in that back yard. She was so surprised that she couldn’t cry. Surely she had the right to feel sorry that only the ragged cover of Lily May was left. There really hadn’t been a more faithful doll in all the negro quarters of Jacksonville than Lily May. Ever since Tilly had rescued her from an ash pile two years ago, she had been Tilly’s constant com- panion and now Tilly didn’t feel sorry that Lily May was dead. Some- thing must be the matter. Yes, something was the matter with Tilly. As she sat there on the edge of the box, her thoughts were ever so far away. First she wondered where her brother, Sunshine, was. Per- haps he had gone over to the neighbors to play. Boys always could do everything they wanted. Perhaps he had gone swimming, down in the creek. If he but knew that when he came back Mammy would use the big switch that stood behind the stove! Tilly laughed. She hoped Mammy would use — but here another thought interrupted her dreaming and Sunshine was forgotten for the time. Scrambling to her feet, she picked up Lily May’s form and started to put the sawdust back. When this was completed, she got her old spade and beside the rosebush she dug Lily May’s grave. Tilly was very lonely. Never before had she felt quite so much alone. Surely Mammy ought to come back from her visit soon, and Sunshine — where was Sunshine? Besides, she wanted something very much, and try as she would, she could not think what that something was. She knew she didn’t want another Lily May. In fact it was a sort of a relief not to have to bother with Lily May any more. Lily was always so quiet and lifeless. If only she would have talked or at least made some sound, it would have been different. Yes, Tilly was very lonely. She wondered if white children were ever lonely. They always seemed to have so much fun with their playmates and toys and — dogs. Tilly wanted a dog. She had always wanted a dog, but never till that moment had she realized it. Dogs were such fun. One didn’t need to be afraid that sawdust would come falling from their heads and feet