Stewart, Ray

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IV] 1\ NUSCR [PTS 21Jane rested a shoulder against the solid post of the porch andwatched the wren flitting among the dusty leaves of the 1ilac by thesheel."You're a busy little thing for such still weather."Startled at the sound of her voice the wren scolded loudly anddarted around the dilapidated building out of sight. Jane followedit as far as the small brook. A sudden "chirk" made her jump back."Oh! [keep forgetting the green frog."She watched it as it plunged into a quiet pool in the brook andswam across. It stopped and blinked at her near a round shallow holeat the other side of the pool. Something stirred the mud of the hole.The small sleepy-eyed head of a turtle rose inquiringly above the water."Jim will find you, Turtle, you and your pretty yellow stripes."She laughed softly and straightened up as a sudden coolnessbreathed through the pines on the ridge above the house. Jane pushedthe hair back from her damp forehead as she watched the firm clarkline of front move across the sky. She breathed deeply of the coolair. As she walked slowly towarcl the porch a feeling of exhilarationfilled her so that she forgot to notice the dry and dusty grass of theearth beneath her feet."Autumn is not far away," she sighed, watching the vermillionunderleaves of the sassa truss flap gently in the breeze.The frenzied yelping of a surprised hound neared the house. Thesnapping of twigs and dead weeds meant that something was prey tothe hound's sensitive nose. Jane stepped up onto the porch andlistened. She heard the sharp crack of the twenty-two. Another.And another. Then silence."Hey, Jane l' Jim called as he came tramping around the house,"I got a copperhead! Come and look!"The MidwayRay StewartITW,\S a welcome rest to sink onto the low, white stools of the largeconcession stand at the triple intersection of Georgetown Road,16th Street, and Crawfordsville Road. This was the first standon the midway, and a soft drink quickly drove away the thirst thatwe had acquired by going both ways along the line of stands on thesouth side of 16th Street. The night was hot and hum icl, but wecould not be particular about the weather or the night, for the midwaylives only one night-the eve of the 500 Mile Race Classic. And thethrill and excitement of the eventful period is well worth the sleepthat is lost during this brief period.22 lVTA NUSCR [l'TSJ swung around on the stool. 1: could see the length of the mid-way, its lights blazing and floating against the deep blue, midnightsummer sky. The loud-speakers of the various booths bawled outtheir endless, profiteering messages, and those without human voicesemitted 11l1.1Sic~good and bad. The spacious open front of theSpeedway Drive-Inn was pared to two narrow openings for automo-hiles hy a boisterous revival truck, four small souvenir booths, and aconcession stand. (}l1t of these two openings trickled a two-way lineof hungry drivers and passengers, and of "full" drivers and pas-sengers. The front 0 f the American Art Clay factory was likewisehidden horn view by the "win-a-prize" stands-basketball throwing,ring' tossing, baseball throwing, dart throwing, penny tossing. Infront of the whitewashed, cement-block 16th Street Midget Speedwaywere located the "free-display" trucks. I~ach of these displays hasa strategically placed "contribution" box at its exit. Beyond thispoint were to be seen only an orderly group of parked cars and a like-wise orderly and endless column of cars lined up to enter the enclosure()f the 500 Mile Race Track at the sound of the cannon at fiveo'clock in the morning.There was a strangeness in the bobbing, dancing, swaying sea ofpeople. Their heads seemed to float apart from their bodies, andseemed to be far, far a way. They were talking, but were making IlOunderstandable comments, while their bodies were walking nowhere.\Ve rose and started back again along the street, absorbing theexcitement in our small city, spending the money saved for thishabitual occurrence, and passing' the slowly waning time until the startof the unique, annual 500 M il« Hace-and the finish of the midway.THE SILENT SAILSLouis J. FoerdererCalm mistress, ravishing by night,\,Vith heaving breast in emerald gown,\Vith irriclescent ringlets crowned,And silver spangles gathered round;'With mists that hypnotise to dreamsYou carryon in silent galesTo harbors past the depths of night;Where She in jealousy breathes deepTo break the spell-Diana's passed.Calm 11l istress, ravaged by the night,/\ wake, the dawning hares that breast,The masted gooney takes his flight,(;aunt ribs their turn take on the crest,,\ nd empty, restless, rent sails slap,The day is come. The gale is spent.

The Midway

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The Midway

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