Argosy, Vol. 1 (1882) — page 197: what you’re looking at

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

188 from the weight of the tree, could sup- port him easily enough, and with all his strength he drew himself upon the edge of the precipice and rolled a few feet away from the brink. ) For a long time he lay there, scarce- ly able to realize his miraculous es- cape, and when at last he rose to his feet and began making his way along the precipice to a point where a cross- ing could easily be effected, his face was still white and his step unsteady. After a while he found a place, and crossed over, to continue his way down, but he had given up all hope of reach- ing the deer first, and made no attempt to hurry. . At last he arrived at the foot of the peak, and began making his way through the bushes to the open country beyond. : Suddenly he heard a shout to the right. ‘The others!” he cried, springing forward. “ They’re just coming around the mountain. I can get there first after all.” THE ARGOSY. He plunged ahead with renewed hope now, and when he came to the edge of the bushes beheld the deer sure enough lying dead on the border. The hounds were not in: sight, and Opdyke concluded they had gone to meet the approaching men, whose shouts were momentarily drawing nearer. “lve won! I’ve won!” he cried, and just then his friends appeared around the bushes. They saw him at once, and began cheering, while Opdyke waved his cap in triumph as he stood over the fallen stag. “My shot was a fatal one, after all,” he said, as they came up. “I chased him over the peak, and, you see, here we are.” His friends were profuse. in their congratulations. Opdyke then told of his narrow es- cape, and when he concluded Sam Bol- ton could not resist giving himself the satisfaction of saying: “ F told you so.” I MISS YOU, DEAR. WHEN morning’s light first tints the gray of dawn, And sleepless eyes tell day is here, And all the world is stirring into life, Then is the time I miss you, dear. Whe noontime comes, and brings its hour of rest From busy toil, so full of care and fear; When man so needs the solace of a smile, Then is the time I miss you, dear. When twilight falls, and all the world is still, When echoes come from far and near, And sighing winds lull weary souls to rest, Then is the time I miss you, dear. Through every moment of the lagging day, So long, without your words of cheer, And when, at night, I kneel me down in prayer, Then is the time I miss you, dear. Bruce Whitney. COMGIOO CO