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THE MAROON TIGER
Collegiate dLowdown
BURGLAR. SAVE MY VALISE!
By Frank B. Adair. Jr.
Some of the fellows returned to the campus this fall
in grand style; there were those who motored, some
came hv Pullman (both inside and outside the coaches),
some hitch hiked, others came on bicycles, and—believe
it or not—one mate told me he crawled back to save
his shoes. Rut the prize for the most dramatic return
must go to “Sheriff” Hall (That name! What foresight
Miss Cooke must have had!)
After a whole summer’s sojourn in New York, where
they steal the band from your hat without removing the
hat from your head, and a casualtyless trip back to
Atlanta, there seems to have been nothing that “Sheriff”
would find to do but have his bag containing all his
valuables (which last word is used in its broadest sense)
stolen right from under his nose. Here’s how it hap
pened.
I was awakened one morning by a rap on my door
and a second later came to my feet at the sound of
Rodriguez’ voice. He bad just returned with Hall from
New York.
“Come in oE man!” 1 said, opening the door. “The
prodigal has come back.”
“Why, hello!” Rod returned, extending his hand,
“What! Hall’s bag’s gone!”
Before I could meet the grasp, the smile which dec
orated his first two words gave way to astonishment
and “What!” came forth in distress. I sensed drama
as Rod dashed from corner to corner in the lobby, and
open-mouthed, I peered as far out of the door as 'twas
best for a pajama-clad male to do so at that hour of the
morning (about 7:00.)
“As surely as I live, Hall’s been robbed!” Rod said
excitedly.
The drama was getting well underway now, for “Sher
iff” himself had returned and discovered his mishap
and was dashing about nonplussed and bawling, “Call
the police—who saw the thief?”; then came Battle and
Mrs. Eichelberger, and Professor Dansby, and Cage,
and Franks, and Kennedy and Jones, and a trio of kids
who had been playing on the campus. Avast! This was
too much! I, too, must join the brigade, but on sec
ond thought I recalled there was no role which a pa-
jama-clad enthusiast might take, as much as it hurt
me to forego the scramble. I suffered, though, for not
quickly dressing myself and hurrying out, for soon
the scurry moved westward down Wellborne Street and
thence across Ashby. Luckily though for me, Mrs. Eichel
berger, who had all the time been a devout participant,
finished the chapter verbally; so I learned that one of
the little fellows had yelled. “I saw him with it! I saw
him with it running down that street.” Franks said he
caught sight of the thief running in the direction of Well-
borne Street. As quick as a flash “Sheriff” was follow
ing him, and surely enough Frank knew his burglars,
for an inquiry put to a lady at a nearby house com
pleted the clue. Amid great trepidation she exclaimed,
“Yas-suh, (—) come here wid dat bag and I run him
'way ’cause even bein’ he’s my boy I don’t tolerate no
stealin’. But jes don’t y’all put him in jail, please.”
More action. In less time than it takes to tell it,
“Sheriff" was off in the direction indicated by the lady’s
finger as she stood in the doorway shaking her head
in agony from left to right. This time “Sheriff” was
even swifter of foot—the dog and the fox! (with all
due apologies to “Sheriff” for the part he played in the
cast)—and it was not long before the dog (that word)
had gained sufficient yardage to compel the fox to cast
the bag under a deserted building and bid bon voyage
to his pursuers. Out of breath, the “Sheriff” fell head
long over his valise and the other dogs (apologies again)
came tumbling after.
“Sheriff" returned to his recently assigned room lout
a fait fatigue after such calisthenics as he possibly had
never before and began to live happily ever after (Who
said “until the exams”?) I finished my handshake with
Rod when I saw him some four hours later—what a
handshake; four hours from the extension of the hand
to the completion of the grasp! Page Mr. Ripley.
THE STROLLER
Hello everybody! Stroller speaking! After much con
sideration and careful deliberation. I conclude that the
activities of mortal beings are more to be marvelled
at than to be understood.
Yes, sir, it’s a funny business—this human behavior,
Now just why Miss M. A. held a Y. M. C. A. meeting
at her home on October 8, is beyond me. What’s the
matter, Miss M. A.? Wires tangled? Perhaps a sign:
“Come early and avoid the rush” would alleviate this
situation. Critical, eh. what?
Miss A. C. seems to have Morehouse well in hand.
Quite frequently we find F. K., W. Me., M. H.. H. J..
et. al., at the old homestead. Go hard A—.
Say, E. M., which fellow is the lucky fellow- -J. Y.,
G. B:. or J. B„ huh?
Would-be tacklers who fain would stop “Blondie”—
the Augusta flash—steal some of a certain co-ed’s copy
righted tactics. Boy! does she drop him every day about
12:05—and how!!
If C. B. means that he isn’t rocking the cradle any
more, I wonder what Miss M. S. will do?
It seems that Miss A. B. of A. U. is going over big
with J. Y., J. B., and J. E. S.—the J’s have it; none
other need apply.
Yowsa! J. C. is keeping company now but why with
B. S.’s flame? Answer me that!
Chink and Jump W. are engaged in a battle of roses
but the odds slightly favor the “wee one” since one on
the rubber is worth ten on the leather.
To whom it may concern—W. M. and E. S. no longer
tete-a-tete at Yates & Milton. At the library instead.
“Steubenville” J., you wouldn’t test your teeth at your
friend’s (R. S.’s) expense; wouldja?
Perhaps Miss E. H. can explain why W. R. sings the
blues.
Josh, are you on your p’s and q’s? Well, if you “ain't”
or if you “is”, you’d better watch that boy Z. T. H.
He is going strong with no apparent sign of weakening.
“Old Gus,” known to some as “Papa" Sweet, goes to
the library every night now. I wonder why? But why
wonder when R. T. can explain?
Your scribe has the distinction of being birde on this
year. Yes siree!! ladies and gents, right out of the blue
it came, but there was a bird in the blue.