The Argosy, Vol. 83 No. 1 — page 196: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

186 steadily, toward him, until, when within proper distance, he once more bowed and politely extended his right paw to shake hands! “Well, Pl be—” The man could find no fitting simile to fit the occasion, but he shook the proffered paw warmly. Dropping on all fours, the dog sprang forward, whining joyfully, and showering caresses on the man’s none too clean hands and unshaved face. But these were de- tails to which he was quite indifferent. He had found a friend—of this he felt certain—and in the exuberance of his joy he barked frantically, until the man si- lenced him, when he proceeded to display his repertoire of tricks, to the astonish- ment and evident delight of his new-found friend. He died; he said his prayers; he es- sayed to “‘tango,” but weakness and lack of his master’s accustomed whistled tune prevented him doing himself justice. He _ bravely attempted his somersault stunts, but from weakness and sore feet ended rather wabbly. When finally he advanced and with his comical grave politeness bowed again, the stony misery of the man’s face broke, fell away like a mask, and he laughed! The laugh set the dog into feeble capers of delight, and the sound, so strange, star- tled the man. He looked about him. The black despair in which he had been en- gulfed was gone! He saw instead the beauty of the June morning. He felt the soft air. caress his face, heard the joyful singing of the birds, the friendly hum of insects, and with the realization of it all the sweetness of life returned to him. He snatched up his crutch from the ground and got to his feet, pulling his tattered old hat from his pocket as he did so, and flung it high into the air with a shout of joy, while the dog gamboled weakly around him. “Do you see this?” the man asked, pick- ing up the revolver from the grass and showing it to the dog, who promptly backed away. THE ARGOSY. “You needn’t be afraid; this revolver means life, not death, to you and me, com- rade. We'll go to the nearest town and sell it. It means a bite and a bone for us, old boy. With your tricks we'll earn many a penny. When you get fed up and rested I’ll teach you some new ones. Then we'll journey slowly toward home. “Home! God! I never expected to see it again! We'll go back to the woman who will give us a royal welcome and make her happy. Ah! comrade, what can’t we do? Amanandadog! Come!” Together they who had so recently en- tered the pasture alone and in despair, left it with hope and joy. When they reached the highway the man paused, and with bared head lifted his face to heaven. “For deliverance from death and de- spair [I thank Thee,” he said aloud; then, looking down at the dog with tear-wet eyes, a sound, part sob, part laugh, gur- gled in his throat. “Youre a mighty queer-looking angel,”’ he said, caressing the eager, faithful face uplifted to his, “but if God Almighty ever sent an angel to save a man He sent you to me!” And so they journeyed together through the long summer days and sweet summer nights, from town to village, working slowly toward one objective point. The nickels and dimes came in plenty, and soon swelled to dollars. The man and dog lived—so it seemed to them—fit for kings. Except on stormy nights, their bed was made in some hay-field, or in a sheltering, sweet-scented wood, that they would not have exchanged for the best berth in a Pullman sleeper. They worked their way to the sea, where at the shore resorts they found people ever at leisure to be amused, and willing to pay liberally for the amuse- ment, too. The dog was not handsome— far from it—but he was an affectionate fellow, and keenly intelligent, who made friends wherever he went, not alone for himself, but for his master also, who, as they journeyed on their leisurely way, was CORMICLOO® <=) (C@