Yeatman High School - Yeatman Life Yearbook (St Louis, MO)

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. .--...-.,............................... ...-....,.............. ,..-.......,.......-.....-..,,..,.....,..... ...... .,,.,.....,.......-..,,,,,,.,,.,.-..,. ,,, ,, , fl2w2.2.Tf.11' 2:f :rf-Fl?-ET113124114.H-r'rran::::,z:.::m11.-:-.':..::f:u1:x:::m.-m::::.v-.-:::.:.t' 1 'i ..., 1 -.-.....,-.-,.....,....................,.-...-..z-..,.,' came around and ate our rabbit bones, and was further satisfied by scraps of meat which Leo had carried for that purpose in his knapsack. We were sitting on a ledge which cropped out of the hill side. Leo was carefully-arranging his lines, and occa- sionally stroking Bruce's grizzled old head. It seemed that he and the dog were almost brothers. They were together every day. shared their meals, divided their spoils of game, and showed great affection for each other. After a while, we wandered on home, and after I had packed my grip and made preparations to depart, I strolled down to Leo's. I found him angrily correcting his younger brother, who had come home with a wild bird that he had captured when it was caught in a bush. Leo allowed the bird to escape, but reconciled his brother to his loss by offering his gun, a thing he valued next to Bruce, to go hunting with. He was very sorry to see me go, and Y--..,...- . - - . H 4 asked me to write to him some time. I wanted to give him something to remember me by, but I was afraid of hurting his feel- ing by giving him money, so I had -bought two boxes of the best grade shotgun shells for him, and intrusted them to his younger brother to give him on the following morn- ing. lVhen my train arrived, Leo was there. and. as usual, Bruce: I sat on the obser- vation platform and waved good-bye to my good friend. VVhen I saw him last, he was sitting on a truck with Bruce beside him. The train then dashed around a long curve. and I lay back in my chair and prepared for a tiresome tive-hour ride. I often wonder now, if ever, when Leo becomes older, he will leave his quiet home among the forests and rocks, and come to the big, ugly houses of the city, surrounded by other ugly houses and these all by still others-where there are no forests, no rivers or blue water, no rabbits, no squirrels. TO TI-IE STATUES IN THE. I-IALLS IXCIILDRED SCHLUETER-EX-111116, '25 Ah! fair dumbbells, Our hearts thrill with envy VV hen we poor, laboring victims Wend our weary Way through the halls To the waiting class that is ever Ready to hear what we donit know. Your faces look thoughtful, XVe'll admit, But if you are thinking You surely don't make any noise, VVhile we don't make nothin' else but When we are thinking. Often we feel inclined To offer you a chair, For it must be dreary Fifty-eight To be Parked on a pedestal Not doin' anything activeg just eternally thinking Or dreaming- VVhich is it? XVhy not be active plus and Wfork for an E Y ? Or maybe the whole flock of us Is dumb And we don't know that You are hollow on the inside And that that is where Santa Claus Gets the letters from, To give to Los Discipulos.