The year 1915 was moving like a maniac scattering dust. I was going to miss a whole precious year of study if I did not break away from this mill and get back to college. Six months, and it was the end of the second term, early June or end of May, and I was desperate. A little money had been saved, and I must not lose another year. Even taking two studies would be some progress. So I had a talk with the Principal and decided to return on a full industrial basis, earning my full college expenses as I went. I took two studies in class and one out of class, reading up the necessary requirements and sitting for the examination.
The college had now built a new power house with a 52 horse-power gas engine which provided electricity for the whole campus, and still had enough surplus power to run a saw mill. I found employment in the engineering department, first in the blacksmith shop, where I was initiated into shoeing horses and other things. Then I was taken in the power house. That was good. I learned to operate this prestigious engine with its dynamo and sizable switchboard, and could earn extra overtime by operating the plant both morning and evening. It was a fine modern unit, and once set going it needed no attention. I could do my study with no one to disturb. The sound of the engine and dynamo was music in my ears. Only twice did the governors fail, causing the engine to gather speed, and the huge flywheel looked like a rounded streak. It was frightening. However I was quick to cut off the gas, it being charcoal fired.
It was necessary for me to get up at four o’clock in the morning so that I could get the gas up, the engine going, and have the lights on the moment the bell rang at 5 a.m. Once some wag came into my room at night while I was asleep and put my alarm on an hour early. So I got up at three o’clock and put the lights on at four, flooding the campus and halls with light. Of course I had a quick phone call from Mr. Lister, the man in charge: “What’s the matter Roy?” Nothing, everything is running fine. “Don’t you know that it is only four o’clock?” So I had to shut everything down again and come back an hour later. I was heckled for weeks afterwards by the students.
Later Mr. Escreet, with some of us to help, set up a saw mill, and this was handed over to Gordon and me to run, using help from other boys. There were still some trees of good timber standing on the college property, and we cut this out, dragging it in with the college horse team. Here a sad tragedy overtook us. I was not present at the time. Gordon, my brother and Gordon Grammon, were felling a tree which shot back, hitting Gordon Grammon in the abdomen. It burst his spleen, which proved fatal. This event brought gloom to the college, for this fine young man had graduated and was under appointment, was popular and loved. He was laid to rest in the Avondale cemetery, C. H. Watson, the Division President and Pastor Robert Hare officiating.
As we cut out the remaining timber on the college property, new houses were built by the carpentry department; also the factory was rebuilt. The old saw mill building which was the first factory in which I worked in 1914, was redesigned by Mr. Tempest, a qualified architect, who took over all construction. A contractor from Sydney took over the building of the factory, while the woodworking department of the college built all the private houses for college staff. One was occupied by Mr. Butler, Senior, who was manager of the College Store. He was the father of a fine family of boys, all of whom were students. Practically all these young men carried responsibility in denominational work later and the son of one, Lance, is now Treasurer of the Australasian Division of the General Conference.
Passing by the Butler home one summer day I noticed a large snake dangling from the downpipe of the guttering into the water tank. All houses had thousand-gallon tanks to catch the rain water from the roof. I called Mrs. Butler, who was horrified. “What shall I do? How do we get it out? This is drinking water! Besides, it’s a dangerous serpent.” She appealed to me. Now I had a problem as to the best and safest procedure. First I provided myself with a stout stick as a weapon. Then I climbed up to the top of the tank, saw it to be a Black Tiger snake, full grown, and no baby to play with. About one foot of the body was exposed, the rest was either in the water or in the three inch pipe. If I were to hit it there, it would fall into the tank and I would then have to fish it out still alive, a tricky procedure with the tank all covered, excepting for the manhole where the snake was dangling.
So I took hold of the pipe, a six-foot length, and slipped it out of it’s upper end. Immediately the snake pulled itself all into the pipe. It was just an inch or two short of each end of the pipe, and drew itself back from the ends as far as possible. I carried it out into the middle of the road, and there tried to shake it out. I thumped one end on the ground, then the other. But the shrewd old serpent forced himself against the sides and there was no way to get at him. So I gathered some dry grass and laid the pipe upon it, then having obtained some matches, lit a fire under the snake. This was more than he could take. He had two alternatives, either to stay and be roasted or come out and be killed. He chose the latter. Just as the head came out I intoned: “The seed of the woman shall bruise the serpent’s head”, and a few solid swipes finished this common human enemy. It was just about the length of the pipe when I stretched it out alongside.
