Willard Middle School - Target Yearbook (Berkeley, CA)

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Donnie? 'Toys THE NEW CHRISTQMAS 'roYs were sitting around the Christmas tree talk- ing. I think Donnie will like me best when he comes down to see us in the morning, said a big, fancy doll boastfully. I don't think you are so fine just because you are so bigf' piped up a little china doll. Donnie doesn't like dolls,', scornfully replied a little steam shovel. I think he will like me best because I am new and shiny with red paint, and he turned his back on the rest of the company. Hulda, a battered, old, rag doll sat in a corner of the sofa where Donnie had left her, listening to what the new dolls were saying. I wonderf' thought she, if Donnie will really like them better than me, but she said nothing. Soon it began to grow light, and the new toys were still arguing as to which Donnie would like best. It was just a little after seven o'clock, and the sun was peeping in the window to see the fun, when Donnie in his little, white nightgown came slipping through the door. He ran immediately to his new toys with shouts of joy. without so much as a glance at Hulda, who wished she was fresh and new like the other dolls. After the excitement of the day and the big dinner, Donnie was finally sent to bed. He had left his other toys. He had grown tired of them long ago, but he ran to Hulda and hugged her tight while he whispered in her ear, You are the best of the whole bunch. The others are so stiff and new I can't play with them, but you are just right. Then he tucked her under his arm and departed for bed. Hulda cuddled down by Donnie, now asleep, and murmured happily to herself, Now I do know that Donnie likes me best. Mary Fnlnzer. Time The rope no man can sever, The rope of time. lWrappea' nmnifolrl about the earth, It has eonneetea' the aneient with the 'nzorler-n. It is a cord with no beginning and no end. I t saw the earth created, I t saw human beings develo p, I t saw civilization begin, It sees our present world, And it shall see things that no man of this age shall see. Time should be respected, Time is power. Morton T. Swarth.

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V P in l T it i I lm Alone in the Woods MY FATHER, my mother, my two brothers, and I were returning from a fishing trip in the Sierra Nevada Mountains. I thought we were getting fairly close to a resort down at the bottom of the range in a little valley, so I asked my father if I could run down the mountain ahead to be the first to reach the resort. He said, Yes, but don't go too fast and go straight toward the resortf' I started off jumping bushes and small stumps, until finally I found myself in the bottom of a deep ravine. The sides were so steep I could not climb them, so I decided to go down the ravine until I came to a place where I could get out, then retrace my steps. I kept walking and walking, but it seemed always to be as steep. The sun had sunk about an hour ago, and the weather was quite cold and nipping. It was getting darker and colder. I quickened my pace in order to get to the end of the ravine. I was listening, ready to jump and run at any time for I recalled a story an old-timer had told me once about a mountain lion that had jumped on a boy who was lost and had eaten him up. There were lots of bears up in these mountains, and once a timber wolf had been killed. I came to a little spring. I took a drink and walked on. Just as I was leaving the spring, I heard a twig snap behind me. I stopped and listened. The snapping of several other twigs broke the silence of the evening. Then I heard a rustling noise like a heavy animal crawling on its stomach. I re- membered from a book I had read that this was a sound similar to that made by a mountain lion before it sprang on its prey. I looked around but could see nothing for it was dusk. Then, too, a mountain lionis skin blends well with the leaves and is hard to see in the dark. I wished I had never left the rest of the party. I could feel those big, yellow eyes of a mountain lion glued upon me. I could not move. My hair was literallyistanding on end. I could still hear that rustling sound coming from behind my back. I heard some sort of lapping noise. I thought the lion was going to have one good drink before eating me. I heard the leaves rustling louder than ever. Turning, I saw the shrubs part! Out waddled an unusually large porcupine. He glanced at me and then went rustling and grumbling off in the op- posite direction. He had come down the stream to drink and not to eat me. I thought I had better hasten on before a lion did get me. I started off. I heard a noise coming from my side. I glanced around and saw a huge, black object against the blue, evening sky. I felt sure it was a bear. I jumped and ran down the ravine as fast as I could. To my surprise I looked up and saw the resort in front of me. After that experience I thought I had better stay with my father while out in the woods. When I got back to the car, I heaved a sigh of relief and thought, All's well that ends well? Lowell Smiib.

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Q Pulls p HE was ONE of those strong and tawny dogs, who, though not perhaps as handsome as true thoroughbreds, have a never-dying affection for their masters. He was called Pedro, and he lived with a recluse in a lonely little hut near the village. The recluse was a half-breed, part English, part Spanish. The villagers said of him that he was an ex-convict, some one to be let alone. When he walked down the street, people shunned his path, the dogs barked savagely at him, and the ragged village children flung stones in his direction. Many strange stories were told of him, all of them untrue, but nevertheless widely believed. Not liking this treatment of his dear master, Pedro fought the worthless village dogs and chased the ragged street gamins. It was his only way of defending the half -breed. Though hardy and strong, the man was quite old. He owned a tiny plot of land outside the hut, and on this he toiled tirelessly, working from early dawn till dusk. Pedro helped him as best he could, but, after all, he could not help much, for he was only a dog. A long time ago when a tiny puppy, the dog had been bought by the half-breed for a small sum. From that day on Pedro had loved and admired him and had always been faithful to him. As a master, he was kind and gentle. He understood Pedro, and Pedro understood him. One day the man fell desperately ill. He was alone in his hut save for the dog, but Pedro knew very well how to carry letters to the village. Tak- ing a paper addressed to the doctor, the dog bounded out of the room and down the road for help. When he saw his patient, the doctor shook his head and gave him some pills, but pills could not cure the half-breed's fever. Then nodding a good-night to the sick man, he left hurriedly, promising to return. The next few days the poor man grew decidedly worse. Day and night Pedro lay beside the bed, his large, faithful, brown eyes lixed sadly and intently on the sick man,s pallid and feverish face. One night the half- breed died. By his side the dog howled piteously, realizing now that his be- loved master was gone. Morning came, a morning sad for Pedro. It was not long before the coroner arrived. Despite Pedro's snarls and growls he carried the body away. In the afternoon of the following day the half-breed was buried in the little cemetery outside the village. The noisy throng of villagers, who had come to the cemetery out of curiosity alone, soon left. Over the grave, however, one solitary mourner sat, whimpering and calling for the master who would never answer him again. If dogs could weep, Pedro would have done so. A neighbor who had long admired Pedro agreed to take him now, but che dog would not eat. He was lost in grief for the only one he had ever loved. The next day Pedro was missing. The neighbor searched everywhere for him, but he was not to be found. A week passed. No Pedro. Seized -with a sudden idea, the neighbor went to the deserted little cemetery. There he found that the half-breed's grave had been dug open. On top of the cof- fin lay the limp body of the dog who in life had been his master's dearest companion. Pedro had died of a broken heart. The kindly neighbor gently closed the grave where the two pals slept. Ynez Iolmsfon.