Woonsocket High School - Quiver Yearbook (Woonsocket, RI)

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THE QUIVER 19 THE TREASURE HUNT HILE 1 was at Camp Hoffman this summer, an old lady, a visitor front Connecticut, was spending her vacation there as a sjtecial guest. One night after we had all gatherer! around the camp fire, the director announced that there was to be a treasure hunt the next day and that the treasure had l een donated by our visitor. Now Camp Hoffman is divided into different encampments, each having a name and a symbol. My group was in the section called Hirch Cove, and our symbol was the Viking Ship in full sail. We were told to follow our noses to the group of trees just beyond, to find our ship, which was the only symbol we could go by, and to follow the directions written on the little ship. Right away our troubles Ixigan. The little ship directed us to the “Well-house.” Now. where was the “Well-house?” Finally one of the girls exclaimed. “Oh! it must mean Wellville!” (Wellville is the name of the hospital.) So we lost no time in hurrying to Wellville and. sure enough, there was our sign. ()ur next step was very puzzling. We were directed to go to a huge fir tree and then so many paces to the right, to look for a hole. Naturally, we thought the hole was in the ground. We walked all around, felt the ground, ran into a few grass snakes, went through the bushes, and were scratched by the briars, but still no hole. Away to the right hung a great iron hoop. It had l een used in a game, but it made a great swing. To this some of the girls directed their steps, disgusted with the treasure hunt, and there, to their surprise, was the code. A hike to the l each followed : but when we got there, no treasure could 1k‘ found, not even a code. Soon somebody’s sharp eve caught sight of a piece of | a] er away out on the wharf, and everybody made a wild dive for it. It directed us almost I jack to the hole, but as we neared the cook's cabin, another note was discovered. By this time we had passed the treasure twice without noticing it. The next clue, hidden on the jxtrch of the cabin, told us that so many paces to the southeast would bring us in reach of the treasure. “Tired to death from our strenuous walk and run, we picked up courage to end the hunt. Suddenly, when a few feet from the treasure, someone shouted. There it is! ! ! There, directly in front of us. lay our treasure. How happy we were to see what we had worked so hard for! We were much revived when our councilor presented each of us with a nice, thick, juicy piece of watermelon. Anna Bliss. '27.

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IS THE QUIVER This one must be selling either water-wings or tooth-brushes. ( Ringing continues. Door opens, and an old, gray-haired lady enters.) John and Betty: (rising). Hello, Aunty! Aunt Marv: Ah ! ha ! You don’t want any callers this evening, do you ? l’.ut 1 called only to see how you like my little gift. Hetty: You're just joking. Aunt Mary. We didn’t receive anything. Aunt Mary: Humph! Joking! Well. 1 reckon I paid the messenger! Hetty: Hut no messenger came here today. Aunt Mary: Why, I tied it up in tissue paper and printed your name plainly on top. It was my l est cook lx ok. My dear Jonathan. (iod bless him. gave it to me on our first wedding anniversary. John (aside): A cook l ook. White tissue paper. (With an embarrassed look.) Oh, Aunt Mary. 1—er—I got a parcel at the office this morning. 1—er didn’t think it was a present, so I just left it there. That must have been it. Hetty: Thank you very much. Aunty. Aunt Mary: Well. I reckon I’d better be on my way. I shall call tomorrow to see how you like it. Goodbye, children. Hetty and John: Goodbye. Aunt Mary. Exit Aunt Mary. |ohn (sinking into chair) : Saved ! ! Hetty: Did you really get it at the office. John?” John (still mopping his brow) : 1 saw it on the front steps. 1 thought a peddler had thrown it there and 1 shoved it into the ashcan. Hetty : Oh ! There goes the ashman. (They rush to door.) (Curtain.) Mary (i. Rynn, '27. THE SEASHORE In summertime 1 like to stroll Along the rocky shore. To watch the billows rise and fall And listen to their roar. They roll along with foamy caps. They sparkle in the bay Like gleaming jewels. n the cliffs They dash aloft in spray. Sometimes I climb from rock to rock Up on a boulder high. And there 1 sit and gaze about At vessels passing by. Their snowy sails rock in the breeze ( hit on the waters blue; They leave a wide and foamy trail. Then pass away from view. Marv Lynch. '17.

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THE QUIVER SILENT NOON 20 Silent noon----- Beneath the great Sun-god’s malignant glare. The corn-tops touch their foreheads in the dust In sick submission. No single sound shatters the sullen quiet. For life itself seems dead. Even the mighty pines huddle in dumb dismay— No scented breeze to set them whis] ering. The very hills on which they grow Have lost their echoes in a brooding haze. And. sulking, hide themselves. Even the care-free butterflies forsake the fields. And lazily folding downy wings, Droop downward, downward. Dissatisfied. Then, drowsily, a drying brook Hushes its eternal murmur. A lone cicada shrills—then stops, Embarrassed! Hut just that one wee sound Awakens depressed Nature. The brook logins to giggle at the little insect’s shyness; The joke reaches the butterflies, who Caper upwards in their mirth ; A breeze springs up from nowhere And. hastening, sets the pines A-roaring gleefully! The bills—the corn—the whole wide world itself Are cheered greatly. And all because one minute creature Has broken The silent noon! I oms ( Jknkkkux. '17. THE BATTLE IN THE AIR The air mail pilot climl)ed into his plane for the hardest run of the whole route from San Francisco to New S'ork. The air was clear, and only a light wind was blowing, so he anticipated an easy trip as he settled down in his seat and tested the controls. He shouted “Contact!” and with a roar of exhaust-pipes the whole plane seemed to pulse with life as the blades of the propeller l ecame a shining, whirling, transparent disc. Slowly he opened the throttle, rolled across the field, and rose at the other end. He circled once over the hangars, and then set off in a straight line for his destinatic m.