The Burro, Yearbook of Mineral Wells High School, 1922 Page: 96

--= THE BURRO * * l
We followed them as they pushed their way through the crowd and
made their way to a large dining room in the Texas Hotel. At their en-
trance a sudden hush settled over the fun-makers.
"Good night!" broke forth the voice of James Eastland, "if there isn't
my old friend 'Slats'."
Pushing back their chairs, they all gathered around their old friend,
each trying to gain his attention.
"Hold on there," broke in Lloyd Bouldin, "it would take him a year to
answer all of those questions. Suppose we go back to the table and give
Cooksey a chance to speak."
"Absolutely," chimed in "Sug" Dean, "what do you think he is, any-
way, a talking machine ?"
"Aw, don't gripe," said John Doss, but by this time they had resumed
their seats, having made room for Cooksey.
"Speech! Speech!" yelled a dark complexioned man who was the
"Dick" Griffin of old, with a little added weight.
"Speech," the whole crowd yelled together.
"Well," began Cooksey, "I have one of the best ranches in Colorado,
a wife and three of the cutest curly-headed kids you ever saw; everything
is going fine with me, and having told you that, I find myself in the very
same position that I was in twenty-six years ago."
"How's that?" questioned "Gus" Wicklund.
"Oh," said Cooksey, grinning broadly, "I was unable to say a thing."
(Laughter.)
"But someone tell me the things that you have been doing." At that
an embarrassing silence fell upon the crowd.
"Well, if anyone else won't, I will," said a large, portly man.
"Go ahead, Tubby'," urged the whole bunch.
"I'll begin with the man at the end of the table," began "Tub" Brew-
ster, "which happens to be James Eastland. James, you know, was a good
speaker and always had lots of spirit. He always told me speaking was
nine-tenths ego. Well, he managed to keep the eg (g) from bursting on
him when he went to Baylor and he made a great success. He is now prac-
ticing medicine at Galveston.
"The next man is Leckie-"
"Oh, I know about Leckie, I heard about him playing with Georgia
Tech when they beat Harvard," broke in Cooksey.
"Gee, whiz! Do they have newspaper on your ranch," asked Frank
Griffin.
"No, you see, I have a wireless telephone."
"The next man," resumed "Tub," "is Bouldin. You know he was the
editor of the 'Burro.' He is editor of the American Magazine now."
Suddenly a door slammed and a muscularly built man jumped from
his chair.
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