consisted of the graduating recital
r-veryone rejoices to see
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California Saturday
Mrs. Marlee pushed some wood
into the bright, crackling fire,
slammed the stove lid into its
place, and turned around to look
at an old clock ticking in the cor
ner. Time for the boys to get up
she thought, as she picked up the
coal-oil lamp and started for their
room.
Harrj Leippe
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“Herbert . . . Herbert ... get
up now. Call Martin too. Here’s
your clean socks . . . now get up,”
she said tossing two little bundles
into the boys’ faces. Mrs. Marlee
was satisfied that her two sons
would get up at once for this
was Saturday, the one day in the
week when they were utterly free.
Errands to neighboring farms were
joyful pilgrimages and did not
properly come under the head of
“work.”
As the early morning sun be
gan to draw thin clouds of vapor
from the dew-covered hills, break
fast for the boys, dog, cow, and
even the cats, had been completed.
While their mother prepared
breakfast, the two boys did the
chores. Several yards from the
house under some tall eucalyptus
trees stood the unpainted, tattered
barn. As the milking proceeded,
the two brothers carried on an
earnest conversation.
“Don’t lose that money,” warned
Mrs. Marlee a last time as her sons
slammed the door and began their
journey. The food hidden in the
manger was dug out, put in a bag,
and down the steep pasture the
boys plunged. Stubby, their old
dog, followed as far as the pasture
fence and then stopped to watch
the boys out of sight.
stood before them,, replacing it
after they squeezed through the
opening. For several decades the
fence had successfully held back
the great live-oaks, and the ma-
dronnes and even the towering
redwoods, but brush and wild
berry v.nes had long ago sneaked
through and settled comfortably
throughout the orchard. Perhaps
the fence didn’t mind the trespass
ing vines and bushes so much, for
it was that very tangled, branch
ing mass which kept the ancient
fence from falling to the ground,
where the shady, moist earth
would have devoured nails, pickets,
rails and all.
“Full of worm holes, ain’t they,”
commenled Herbert inspecting a
large apple then wiping it on his
shirt sleeve.
“Get the three eggs?” inquired
Herbert as he milked.
“Sure did. Salt too.”
“Better sneak back and get that
other stuff.”
Martin disappeared and a few
moments later returned just as
Herbert was hanging up his milk
ing stool. Martin was not empty
handed on his return: he had a
jar of peaches. He hid the fruit in
a growing pile of food in the
manger. The two boys exchanged
a few more words and then picked
up the bucket of milk and re
turned to the warm kitchen and
breakfast.
While the two boys ate, the
mother issued some instructions
as she strained the milk.
The trail which the boys chose
on the other side of the fence
was soon buried in a mass of
tangled brush all wound together
by means of long, twining, wild
blackberry vines. Overhead, the
twisting limbs of the great live-
oak trees and the bright red-pur
ple colored madronne trees
climbed skyward. The trail as
well as the ground was covered
with dry leaves and the crushing
of the brittle, sharpedged oak
leaves beneath their feet made
much noise. Though the morning
sun was shining brightly, its warm
rays had not yet seeped through
the trees and brush, and the boys
found the air rather cool as they
walked through the shadowy for
est with the morning dew drip
ping from leaf to leaf. After wind
ing for some distance through the
dark damp woods, the trail began
to climb again and soon the boys
had reached the top of a plateau
like hill covered with brush and
trees.
“Here’s a couple ripe ones over
here. Don’t have to worry about
washing off the spray on these.
Come on, let’s go.”
After walking through a little
more brush the boys arrived at a
Obvious But Opaque
“. . . and don’t lose that dollar
Herbie, and tell Mrs. Bishop to
divide the eggs between you to
carry, and be careful,” she con
cluded.
HILLTOP—PAGE EIGHT
The plateau was crossed and
on the other side the boys found
themselves looking down into a
small valley in which grew the
remains of an old apple orchard.
Herbert removed a picket from the
ancient, moss-covered fence that
A Riddle In Rhyme
Hushed by a spark.
And a bearer of cark.
It urges travelers to hark
And watchdogs to bark.
It’s to lovers an incentive to park.
In its vagueness the burglar and
shark
Go through its reticence to leave
their mark.
In the realm of the moon it’s a
hierarch.
At the dawn of time, ere the day
of the Ark,
Its rival was created by our Patri
arch.
“ ‘Bright’ is antonymous,” I also
remark.
I ask, “Are you puzzled as I de
bark?”
“If you are,” I reply with a lark,
“You’re in the ‘dark’.”
—Ray Rogers.
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submitting
present Bap-
Student directors included Allen
Brown and Barbara Morris, and
Blankets & Spreads
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