The Argosy, April 1916 — page 196: what you’re looking at

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

HAVE heard about rarebit dreams. I | have even dreamed those dreams, at times, but last week was the first time I ever really experienced a dream. Let me assure you that the actuality is worse than the dream! It happened in this wise: I was on a business trip. My friend, Bill Hardy, in Iowa, invited me to stop off for a day’s hunting on my way home.. As I had not used a gun for ten years, I accepted the in- vitation, and counted the days. I believed him, unsuspecting mortal that I was, when he said a day’s recreation would do me good—and now that I think of it he said something about “resting” my “tired body.” Well, the day arrived. We put on our old clothes—or rather /zs old clothes. I was so elated over the prospects that I was entirely unconscious of the clothes, meant for a man twice my size. The main objec- tives were “prairie chickens,” but, seeing none, we tried for rabbits. Over the hills and through every corn- field we plowed in a blinding snow. I had determined to bring back some game, and as you shall see I am a man whose determi- nation cannot be shaken. Altogether, we walked twenty miles through the soft snow, and shot nine rabbits. I say we, because, of course, I am too modest to tell how many J shot. The psy- chologists say one “learns by resting” —and as my shooting abilities had been “resting” for ten years, of course I was exceptionally good. The first rabbit strung over my shoulder ‘bitter weather, felt like a feather, but after a few hours he weighed at least ten pounds. By the time I had four on my back—well, I shall never forget the last five miles! Somehow, in spite of the beautiful scen- ery, I kept picturing myself as one of the moving men who carried our sideboard up four flights in old New York. Just when I seemed to get the sideboard to a place where it would sit alone I would stumble over a cornstalk and realize where I was. Surely the day’s recreation was doing mé good, as Bill had prophesied it would. As for resting my tired body—every time I think of these twenty miles I ache all over! We got back, finally, and I helped clean those rabbits—another indelible impression. Bill insisted that I must take at least four of the creatures home to my wife in New York, as @ surprise. [I insisted they wouldn’t “keep,” but he assured me it was only nec- essary to “freeze ’em and keep ’em-cold.” Being one of those loyal husbands who re- joices in taking home “surprises,” I acqui- esced. If Bill Hardy ever reads these lines may he feel all the pangs of remorse! Well, we froze the rabbits, wrapped them in heavy brown paper, and I was happy as a lark—or shall I say a rabbit? I was so de- lighted I even bought a huge box of candy for Bill’s kids. (Don’t you forget that, either, Bill Hardy! ) With profuse thanks, I said my farewells and went. to the railroad station. It was but remembering Bill’s parting admonition to “Keep ’em cold,” I remained stoically out of doors umtil ‘the train cam. 186 cCoOmicoooks C@