The Argosy, Vol. XXIV, No. 3 — page 191: what you’re looking at

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

OVER THE DANGER LINE. 375 It had gone nearly to its full length when I felt a sudden jerk, then a steady pull. ‘‘ This is the pick of the tribe,’’ I called to my companion over my shoulder. The victim was making a glorious struggle. We both be- came excited. The strain on the line would relax for a moment, only to be increased till I feared it would part. I began to pull in, slowly at first, and then more rapidly as our game seemed to become exhausted. My friend and I meanwhile kept up a running fire of comment. I expected every moment to catch a glimpse of a shining, struggling body. The line was nearly in, and the strain had diminished to almost nothing. I looked into the water beneath. The line seemed almost perpendicular, then the boat passed over it. I was startled, and looked around. ‘The hook had been caught in a snag or fissure of the rock, and all the time I had been pull- ing in I had, in reality, been slowly but surely pulling the boat toward the awful precipice whose mighty roar seemed to sound our doom. For a moment I was paralyzed. I tried to speak. I could not force a sound from my lips. At last, after what seemed to my excited senses an age, ily voice came with a rush, and with a sound so hoarse that it seemed to mingle and be lost with that of the cataract. ‘‘ Row, row, row !’’ I cried. Before my voice could have reached him, my companion had compre- hended the situation, and was bending to the oars. ‘Then began a desperate struggle for life. I could do nothing but sit with bated breath, and watch his frantic efforts. Every moment was precious, and the idea of my taking one of the oars was not to be considered. My friend was rowing with such a quick, powerful stroke that hope gradually came tome. With each pull the boat would seemingly rise to meet the oncoming water, and then subside. I looked toward the shore.. What could cause that peculiar seesaw of the trees? I shuddered as I realized the explanation. Between the strokes the boat was carried down by the current apparently as much as it was forced up stream by the efforts of the rower. Difficult as the task was, I forced myself to speak words of encouragement. In one breath I assured him that we were gaining at every stroke, and then, lest he should relax his exertions, I pictured the horror of the death that awaited us. At first no advance could be distinguished, but, after rowing for a very long time, as it seemed to me, I detected undeniable evidence that we were gaining. Clearspace could be seen between a tree and chimney that, in the beginning, had been outlined together against the sky. So much time, and only a gain of ten or fifteen feet! Would my friend ever bear up under this fearful ordeal ? | I looked at him more attentively. Great beads of perspiration coursed rapidly down his face. Every muscle seemed strained to the limit. His face had assumed a tense expression, with eyes dilated and tongue protruding from between his teeth. Yet invincible pluck was written in every feature. Any one who, ina moment of danger, has been denied the power of action, will appreciate the tax put upon my self control. There is a sense of satis- faction, at a time like this, in being able to make an heroic struggle ; to fight against the inevitable ; to exhaust one’s vital energy; to die hard. This forced repose, while the sullen roar of the precipice sounded a dreadful menace comicloolks CO