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Page 9 text:
THE T With all about white storm-bleached bones; This is the eagle ' s lain. A little black speck in the sky, A lightning swoop, and then nearby Alights the monarch of the sky, On frightened bird or hare. O eagle, pirate of the wild, Boon nature’s most untamed child, Leader of birds and nations styled, Thy fall may come! Take care! KATHERINE STONE. HOW “STRAWBERRY” WAS CHRISTENED. (A True Story). It was at Strawberry, a little sum- mer resort composed entirely of one dilapidated, but cozy-loking house, which lounged on the bank of a swirl- ing river. Supper was over, and the guests were grouped about the garrulous land-lord, Mr. Barry, on the wide veranda. “By the way,” murmured a tail young man, “how’d this place get its name? I haven’t seen one strawberry growing here to justify the title.” “Waal now, I’ll tell ye. Somewhere around ten years ago, a party o’ men come tram in’ up the road near sun- down, all a-wantin’ ter stay here over night. My place war already full ter spiilin’ over. I wanted ter accommodate them fellers, but whar could I put ’em?” “Directly I thought o’ a place, but 1 didn ' t know how they’d take it. I ask- ed ’em kinder timid if they’d sleep in the barn. That thar,” and he jerked his thumb over his shoulder, “ is the same identical one.” “They seemed right willin’ an’ come in ter clean up fer supper. I knowed all along I’d have ter put ’em on hay A R G E T 5 on the floor, so when they’d got up from the table I approaches ’em per- lite an says, ‘Gents, you ' ll have ter sleep on straw ’cause it’s the best I kin do fer ye, an’ I hopes ye sleeps comfortable’.” “They mixed in with t’ other folks fer a while, but directly they started out ter bed. I had saw to it that thar was a good pile o’ hay in the barn, so I took ’em out.” “ ’Gents’, I says, ‘jest pull a pile o’ hay out ter one corner an’ sleep on thet. A good rest fer ye,’ I says as I shet the door.” “An’ then after a bit I went ter bed meself. I was jest failin’ inter peace- ful slumbers when I hears a faint yell from th’ direction o’ the barn. I sprung up in my niglit-clo’es an’ run out thar. All the way I heard ’em yell. ‘More straw, Barry! more straw, Bar- ry!’ I supplied ’em good, an’ went trapesin’ back ter bed, kinder mad in- ter the bargain. Waal now, I lied jest got ter sleep when I hears more faint yells. I was plum mad this time an’ I laid still. But them yells grew louder an’ makes fer thet barn like a house a-fire, a cursin’ ’em at every jump. ‘Gents!’ I cries, ‘what do ye want now?’ ” “‘More straw, Barry! more straw, Barry!’ they growls, poundin’ th’ hard floor.” “An’ b’gosh I was kep’ jumping’ all night by them fellers. It got ter be a standin’ joke, an’ people begin ter call, ‘thet. thar place up th’ river,’ ‘Straw- berry,’ an’ it’s kep’ thet name ever since.” HILMA DAVIS. Lessons in laughing given free by Donna Ellen. Wanted — A patent medicine war- ranted to add fat. Apply to Jack Ir- ving.
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4 THE TARGET He was guiltless, but to prove it to tbe authorities was another matter. He was immediately taken to Washing- ton. On the way however, the train was wrecked. Among the foremost in clearing the wreckage was Pat, whose sinewy arms worked wonders. There he was in a thickly wooded country, a condemned man with every chance to escape, but he would not take advan- tage of it. The day of the trial came, and our friend was led into the dock. The charge was read, specifying that Mr. Brown, late Saturday night, had seen Conly set fire to some dry grass. He had run to a nearby reservoir and sent a telegram to the nearest town that the forest was on fire. The operator was then called and asked if the message had been re- ceived. He replied in the affirmative. Things looked dark for Pat, but “it is always darkest before dawn,” and the maxim proved true. The operator con- tinued, — “Saturday night I received a call from the mountains that the for est was on fire. This call was sent by Mr. Dorwin a member of Conly’s staff. Mr. Brown’s statement is false.” Silence fell on the courtroom, and Brown moved nervously. Then a laugh rang out from the government’s lawyer. “Gentlemen,” he said, “you have all heard what has just been said; may I ask the speaker how, as telegraph lines are not transparent, nor can one speak through them, he can prove that the call was sent by Dorwin.” “Gentlemen of the jury,” replied the operator, “I have here a telegraph out- fit, which, with your consent, I will set up, and I will turn my back to the court. Then let any number of men use the instrument, and before Dor- win sends five words I shall know his touch on the key.” Now came the climax. Three men sent messages but the witness remain- ed silent. Dorwin came next and with a trembling hand pressed the key; one word, two words — “Dorwin! Dorwin!” came the cry. Again and again the judge rapped for order, and finally the room was quieted. “And now gentlemen, I will add a little to the interest of these proceed- ings.” He walked over to Brown and said, “Disclose thy treachery!” Brown never moved. Grabbing him by the collar, the operator wrenched off a lifelike mask, unbuttoned his vest out of which fell a bunch of rags. There, his identity revealed, stood “Prowling Jim” — trapped. It was a happy afternoon for Pat as he rode home on the great “Northern Pacific Railroad.” Happy also was McHaffy the operator who, seated be- side his friend, was musing over his future prospects. He had been made chief operator in his county, a great factor in his life, but greater still in his mind was the fact that he had saved his friend; for as Pat said’ — “He is well paid that is well satis- fied, And I, delivering you, am satisfied. And therein do account myself well paid.” ANTHONY FOLGER. THE EAGLE. Where cliffs loom up, so tall and steep, Where ne’er but wild things dare tc leap, Where untracked roves the mountain sheep, — The eagle’s cairn is there. No wilder place in all the zones Is found, a nest of sticks and stones,
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6 THE TARGE T AT SUNSET. I joy to watch the skies at e ' en, ' When the sun is sinking low; Living and breathing colors they seem, That softly melt and go. The sun just glides from out of sight, And leaves a path of gold; Then into this there blends a light, Most wondrous to behold. The shades cast over the Golden Gate, Are truly works divine; What mortal man can imitate, This work of art sublime? A perfect rest comes over me, When I gaze upon this all; My thoughts then turn, Oh Lord, to thee — From whom all blessings fall. LAURINNE MATTERX. “BATO N I DALAGA.” (A Philippine Legend. Long, long ago there lived in the “Convento " adjoining the Church of San Juan, an old priest named Father Pedro, whom everyone loved, and whose counsel was sought on all oc- casions. One day he went away and was gone some time, and when he re- turned he had a beautiful native girl with him. No one ever knew whence he brought her. He named the child " Luz,” which means " light,” and called her " The light of his life.” Years went by and each day she became more fascinating. Her hair was long, black and glossy, and her eyes so large and beautiful were the awe of the village. She lived in the Convento with the priest, and when she grew older many sought her hand. But the old father guarded her care- fully, training her for the convent and the veil. The lovely maiden knew noth- ing of her suitors, for her only out- ings were in the little garden behind the church and an occasional walk walk with Father Pedro. It was on one of these walks on a soft, sweet night, as they were wind ing their way along a path leading out of the village, that a young man stopped them and speaking courteous- ly to the priest, inquired the distance to the next town. As the way was long, the father, forgetting his caution for Luz and craving company of his own sex, invited the handsome youth to spend the night at the Convento. The stranger gladly accepted, and on the way home, while talking with the priest, gazed admiringly at the girl by his side. On arriving at the Convento. Luz brought wine, then bade them good night and went to her room. With the first streaks of dawn the village was awakened by the bell in the tower ringing! Ringing! Such a wild startling clanging! It was not the Sabbath. Why then should the bell ring? Only twice before had it rung out of its accustomed time, first when the former priest of the church had died and second when the village was warned of a forest tribe of Ibilao creep- ing up to sack the town. The people quickly gathered at the church, and the priest, stumbling down the old tower stairs, in broken phrases told of the stranger and how both he and the beautiful maiden, " The light of his life, " had disappeared. Men searched for days and weeks with no result. One day a traveler came into the town and told a strange tale — of how a day or two before, while riding a few miles westward, he had seen, sitting on a huge rock, the maiden Luz, spinning. He hurried to her, thinking to take her back to the old priest, but when within a few yards, the rock seemed to open, and she disappeared. The news being carried to the priest,
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