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Page 11 text:
THE TARGET For the Love of iMike In a trench the men were silent, and each one was wrapped in medi- tation. The sky was turning- gray, and in a moment the command would come. Alike, a young Irish soldier, held a small, black dog on his knee. Perhaps it would be the last time the chums could be to- gether. " Pep " seemed to realize that something new was to take place, and he gazed into his master ' s eyes. Mike gave a faint smile, and whis- pered, " You ' re all I got, me boy, but you ' re enough. I may not be a-comin ' back to you, and you won ' t know why. But it matters little. It ' s for the cause, me boy. Better a little dog than a lass a-pinin ' her heart away, back home. " The word came, — " Over the top! " Into the face of the enemy rushed the men, and staggering forward, they fought desperately. A bomb burst near Mike and he fell un- conscious into a shell-hole. The day broke and looked upon a scarred field dotted with bodies of the dead, the dying and wounded. Still the fighting raged on. Night brought relief and the trench was captured, but Mike lay motion- less. Across the field crawled a small black figure, pausing at each body to smell, and whine, and then go on courageously. Finally there was a bark of joy. " Pep " had found his injured master. He barked wildly, and ran a short distance away. There was no response, and the little animal became more ex- cited. Another figure moved upon the field. It was the stretcher-bearer. Instinct told " Pep " that help was near and he ran toward the moving object. Whining and crawling he approached the Red Cross man, and in dog-language informed him that he was wanted. At last they came to the hole, and " Pep " jumped upon his master. Barking, and licking his face he tried to express his thanks and joy. " Well, for the love of Mike! " ex- claimed the stretcher-bearer. " This is the pluckiest little fellow I ever saw! " A few weeks later, when Mike was in the hospital, he called for " Pep. " The dog was brought in for a moment. " You did it ' cause you were lovin ' me; didn ' t you, me boy? " he said, stroking his pet ' s head. " Pep " wagged his tail joyfully, as if to say " Yes, master. I did it for the love of Mike. " MARTHA HANNA. PLANT FOR OUR BOYS. All hail, to the hoe, ye boys and girls ! Glad Spring is calling all, Think not of play, of dress, of curls, But plant to glean this fall. Our boys over there are calling for wheat They care not for sport and dance; Plant vegetables to save the meat Remember our boys in France! MARIE LOUISE WIEDERSHEIM. You eat potatoes Give our boys the buns; They need the wheat So they can get the Huns.
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8 THE TARGET Only a Song Stealthily the leader of the " Idle Hour Gang " crept on. At last he reached the hedge, and from here on he knew his way perfectly. He " was a very tall man — which is sometimes very inconvenient for a burglar — and rather handsome, but no matter how clever was his disguise the hard lines on his face always indicated his terrible life. To the " Gang " he was known as " D. D. " — otherwise Dare Devil. Really he was Arthur Treble, but no one save the police and him- self knew this. He allowed one little gleam to escape from his flashlight so that he might make sure he was taking the right path. It proved to him what he had already supposed, that he was at the foot of the Maynard ' s back stairs. Slowly he ascended them, noiseless as a cat, until at last he reached the top. Suddenly from somewhere out of the silent house music was wafted down to him, beautiful music, and also a wonderful voice singing mel- odiously with it. Now it trembled, then burst forth in all its glory once more. Arthur Treble stood petrified, straining his ears, marveling, won- dering. Some unknown feeling had entered his heart. Fascinated and bewildered he stole nearer and nearer to the room from whence the music came. When he reached the door he stood silent, his heart throbbing within him. Silently he listened to what seem- ed to him sacred music. " Good-bye, my dear old mother, don ' t you cry, Just kiss your grown-up baby boy Good-bye, Somewhere in France I ' ll be dream- ing of you You and your dear eyes of blue; Come, let me see you smile before we part, I ' ll throw a kiss to cheer your dear old heart, Dry the tear in your eye, don ' t you cry, don ' t you sigh, Good-bye, mother, kiss your boy good-bye. " Through the mist in his eyes the burglar saw a vision of her, that wonderful mother who had guided him right and taught him to play fairly. If she had lived perhaps he would have been square but ever since that little green mound had grown straggly, he had gone wrong. Oh, what would she think of her boy — a burglar! Hysterically he clutched his throat, then ran wildly from the house, never minding the frightful racket he created. " Wuxtra, wuxtra, Metropolitan Bulletin, " hoarsely shouted a small newsboy the next mornin. " D. D., criminal, escaped convict, enlisted in U. S. Marines! Wuxtra, here, lady, mysterious Mr. Treble in the Xavy an ' b ' gosh M ' am the cops ain ' t even gonna ' rest him! " ELIZABETH DENBIGH. Grow potatoes, Cook potatoes, Eat potatoes, WHY? Mash potatoes, Hash potatoes, By a good ally.
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to THE TARGET Marjorie ' s Parade " Mother did Daddy buy any Liberty Bonds? " said Marjorie in an anxious voice. " No, dear, he has a foolish idea about buying bonds. He believes that the rich should do the financing of the war. " " Oh, Mother, but that isn ' t right, and I must explain it to Daddy be- fore the bond drive is over. " That night Mr. Maxwell came home tired, and Marjorie saw that he was in no mood to discuss bonds. After supper he was in the habit of working in his war garden, and Marjorie was his little helper. " Daddy, may I help you plant this evening? " " Yes, but do be careful about the seeds. They are very small and you must not lose any of them. " Soon Marjorie and Mr. Maxwell were busy, but Marjorie didn ' t have her mind on the garden. She could not hear to think that her father was not patriotic. Suddenly she drop- ped the envelope containing the tiny carrot seeds. She began to pick them up quickly and as she sat on the ground she was attracted by a number of ants which were running to and fro. There was one large ant, while the others were all quite small. She watched them for some time, and soon saw the large ant stop and pick up one of the carrot seeds. He was having a hard time, as it was a heavy load for him. The other ants weren ' t concerned about the difficulties of the worker. They seemed to think that they were too small to help. " Daddy, come here. You must see these queer ants. " Mr. Maxwell, though busy, stopped his work and came to see this wonderful spectacle. " Daddy, you are one of those ants. You are letting the big ants of your country carry the burden of war while you sit by because you think that you are too small to help. " Mr. Maxwell looked perplexed, but said nothing. The next evening, however, when he came home he had a Liberty Bond. To be sure Mar- jorie was proud of her father and pleased with her success in helping her country and her father at the same time. MILDRED BAIN. Money you lend Ships you send; Money you keep Means defeat. THE DIARY OF A WAR DOG Last night, after dark, I was sent out into the battle field with pro- visions for the men that had been injured in the recent battle. The first man I saw was very severely wounded. He was very weak from hunger and thirst as well as from loss of blood. He was very glad to see me and what I brought. After supplying him with w r ater and food, I left him and went to give aid to some other wounded man. Later I went back to the man whom I saw first, for he was suffering so much. With the help of two slight- ly injured men, I managed to bring him back to our trenches. Im- mediately word was sent down the line that their noble commander had not been killed, but was back in the trenches, saved by a war dog. FLORENCE W. OLNEY.
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