Woonsocket High School - Quiver Yearbook (Woonsocket, RI)

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14 THE QUIVER ‘ IT’S A GREAT LIFE—IF—” “ ‘—From the Dupris River south as far as the Sierras. You will probably find them somewhere along the floor of Old Dismal. Report in ten days.’ “ ‘Yes, sir! Thank you, sir!’ “And Bob M’Greggor started off. It is true that Bob had very little actual expectation of coming out of the enterprise alive, let alone in ten days, for the Robinson Gang was a desperate and elusive band of moonshiners. And many a crafty woodsman had departed into Old Dismal Canyon to vanish from the ken of mortal man. “However, as Bob reasoned it. a fellow can die only once, and much better that it be thus than to be perforated by the ill-aimed bullet of some drunken brawler. “So Bob started, as we have said. Now, for Bob to start and for M’Greggor to finish was one action, as a rule, for he was the speediest ‘go-getter’ of the force. He was a ‘live-wire.’ In fact, in this instance, so fast did he proceed upon the perils of his journey that he quite outdistanced the more leisurely chronicler of these events, so we needs must pause to describe him. “He was—.”

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THE QUIVER 13 loved me, so we returned home—after I had made the necessary apologies. We are now waiting for you to come to visit us. Wishing you good luck and health, I remain Your friend, Geraint. ULYSSES SMITH. ’25. A CALAMITY. One day Dana and I were fastening a springboard to the end of our pier; and as we were not very experienced carpenters, we were making very hard work of it. “Jo,” said Dana, “I’ll sit on this end, and you go out on the other end and see if we have the board short enough, because if it is too long, it will be too springy. I’ll hang on to this end. Go on.” “All right,” I assented, though somewhat unwillingly, because at low tide the pier is about ten feet from the water, and it happened to be particularly low tide. I cautiously took a step toward the end and felt the board wiggle. “Dana, are you sure you can hold it down?” I asked doubtfully, stepping back on the pier. “Of course! Oh, go on! Don’t be scared,” he urged. I was bound I would not be called a “scared-cat.” so I firmly planted one foot on the board and then the other. Cautiously, I walked out to the end. not daring to look back at Dana. “Is it too springy?” he asked, when I had finally reached the end. His question was never answered because, in my endeavor to test its pliableness, I jumped—but only once! “It’s slipping!” yelled Dana. “Hang on!” I cried. “I can’t!” yelled back Dana. By this time I was facing him. and to my dying day I shall never forget the agonized look on Dana’s face. He was sitting on the board, grasping the railing with one hand and the board with the other, while his legs were dangling over the side, kicking the air. I had only time for one short glance, because I was slipping fast. T grabbed the board with “all fours,” but that did no good because the board was slipping, too. Finally Dana could hold on no longer, so he let go, and the springboard and I plunged into the ocean together. JOAN GETCHEL. 26.

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THE QUIVER 15 No answer. “John Hamilton Withersby!—you put up that trash immediately and come down here and chop your wood! Do you hear me? Hurry up!” “Jack” heaved a sigh. You know the sigh 1 mean,—that kind of portentous expulsion of breath that issues wearily from the profound depths of the bosom of a small boy when he has tried to keep out from under foot on a rainy Monday, with no school on account of the rain, and with Mother doing the washing in the cellar for the same reason; and Jack had a sore throat anyway. Oh. you know as well as I, because you’ve “heaved” many such. And Jack gave this one such a mighty heave that it tickled his inflamed throat and caused him to cough. Ha! An idea! Jack coughed again, this time a deep, croupy cough, with a slight wheeze by way of embellishment. Mother heard; Mother heeded. “Why, Jackie, why didn't you tell me you had a cold? Come now, Mamma’s little man, you pop right into bed again and bundle up warm, and we’ll nip this in the bud. Never mind what ‘nip in the bud’ means. Here, switch on the reading lamp and read till I get that laundry done. Now don’t call, honey; I’ll be back as soon as 1 can. “Jackie” heaved a sigh of luxurious contentment, real lazy contentment. “!!' was a tall, bronzed man. of about twenty years, tough with the strength of a giant, yet light on his feet. H:s was a versatile nature, for he was gentle, though brave. “lie had been riding at a slow canter through a small clearing, when suddenly there came from the right the low—.’’ “Good morning, young man! Well, well, well! No school and sick in bed, eh! Hard luck! Yes siree! Pretty tough. Well, never mind—we ll have you fixed up in no time, so you can go to school tomorrow. Of course you don’t want to miss school, do you? Say ‘a-ah’! that’s the boy. Throat sore? Head ache? Cough much? hm ! —Let’s sec if you have a temperature. Open your mouth. Here— no. under your tongue. 1 hat’s right. Don t bite it! “—when suddenly there came from the right the low whine of a .32 steel jacketed bullet. Bob was off his horse in an instant, and drawing his rifle from its sheath—,” “Now let’s see. Hm. Normal. Just a slight inflammation of the throat. I’ll leave some pills for you. One pill to one glass of water every half hour. There. Take ’em till they are gone. Fine. Now don t read any more today or you’ll get your eyes sore and you 11 have a headache. Well, good morning, young man. So long. “Jackie” heaved a sigh. JOHN ULLMAN, ’24.