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Page 28 text:
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24 THE QUIVER showed white in the frosty night, and as I followed it with my gaze, I saw a shining black object just before the crossroads. It was partly covered from view by the shrubbery along the stone wall. I thought it looked like an automobile and called my Grandmother’s attention to it. She said it did look queer, but that it was, very likely, the shadows of the trees. The more I looked at it, however, the more convinced I was that it was a machine. The town hall clock struck eleven. All kinds of ideas flashed through my mind, as we gazed silently down the white road which lapsed into darkness at the crossroads. A train whistle shrieked far off; a large cloud passed between us and the moon ; the breezes grew chillier; and the night itself seemed ghostly. No one came within sight, and the black object did not move; but still we stared, silently, expectantly. Suddenly, the tops of the bushes in a pasture a short distance away brightened. Straight ahead the light passed, as an automobile from the other side of the house turned the corner at the hilltop. Then, when it was still a good distance from the crossroads, one light at the crossroads was turned on, and so the questionable object proved to be an automobile. When the first machine drew up to the stationary one, it stopped. In the glare of the lights, we could see hunters with guns entering the latter machine. Then they drove oflf in opposite directions, and left me wondering if I had been dreaming. While I pondered, I noticed a dark figure come out of the shadows, running very fast. I must have opened my mouth still wider at this sight, for I bumped my chin against the window sill. Pictures flashed through my mind, as I recognized the fleeing figure to be Fred. Rob with the money had probably been caught and carried oflf, and Fred, by hiding in the bushes, was not noticed. Now he was hurrying home to let us know! As he neared the yard, I expected every second to hear him shout, “Help! Robbers!” but he said nothing. As he walked through the yard, he said, “Brrr.” “Horrible! Cruel!” I muttered, for I thought he was going over the scene. Grandmother’s “Where’s Rob?” brought me back again. “He’s right behind,” he answered very calmly. We looked along the road, and there he was, not thirty yards back; but I was so nervous that I watched only Fred, who had run from the crossroads to “warm up” after waiting so long. They had neither seen nor heard the automobiles. Rob had been delayed by an extra number of people who wanted to pay their poll taxes the last minute before election. So everything ended calmly, and we slept “tight” after the excitement. CORA M. CARROLL, ’21.
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Page 27 text:
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THE QUIVER 23 “What was the matter?” “You ran twelve laps instead of eleven. It was the counter s fault. We’ve lost the meet.” “And you, your position?” questioned Jones. “No. After you had finished, “Scout” Watson, who had offered me the position, said, that seeing you had run twelve laps, he had found the average time for each and then had multiplied by eleven. This gave the time of 1 minute and 27 seconds. Thus you see that you should have beaten him if it had not been for the counter. “Scout Watson, seeing that it was no fault of mine that the meet was lost, told me that I could have the position.” “Did you accept?” “I did!” WILLIAM SMITH. ’22. A SATURDAY NIGHT AFFAIR The time of this incident was a Saturday night in October, a chilly, starless, moonlight night; the setting, a farm house a mile or more from town. The clock on the mantel chimed ten, and Grandmother sat up with a start. Just then we heard a door open and close, but it was only Uncle Fred, who had locked the barn and hen houses for the night. My other uncle, whom we had been expecting for nearly an hour and who was in town collecting taxes, had not arrived, so bred said he would go to meet him. Now Uncle Rob, the tax-collector, is not afraid at night, but Fred is always having dreams that come true—not that we are superstitious, but you know it is better to be on the safe side—and once Fred had dreamed that the tax money was stolen from Rob. Fred did not go because he had had the dream, but because a robbery of this kind was perfectly conceivable. Lone members of the family have been held up at different times before prohibition went into effect, and certain sites along the road used to be “hangouts for gamblers and the like ; for instance, the ruins of an old farmhouse and of buildings destroyed by fire. Everybody in the town knows the tax collector, and everybody knows where everybody else lives and all his business, so the thought of robbery was only natural. We waited awhile after Uncle Fred went, and then my Grandmother and I went upstairs. Instead of retiring, we sat at a window which was a very unusual thing for us to do. The winding road
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