Nancy MacIntyre | Page 6

frugal meal was over, When the pipes were filled and lit, And
the cowboy ceased his stories Weak in moral, rank in wit, Billy plied
him long with questions, Wording each with thought and care, Lest his
zeal for information Should reveal his mission there. "Tell me who
you've seen go by here, Just within the last few days; What they had for

teams and outfits; How the country round here lays. Have you seen a
prairie schooner-- Old style freighter--pass this way? Both wheel
hosses white-nosed sorrels, Lead team of a dun and gray?"
[Illustration: "Loaded up their prairie schooner, And vamoosed the
ranch 'fore light."]
[Illustration: "He was startled by a stranger's Sudden presence and
'Hello!'"]
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"I remember some such outfit, If I've got your idee right. Think they
camped a mile below here Week ago last Thursday night. Pulled in
sometime 'long 'bout sundown, Turned their stock in yonder draw, But
an oldish sort of fellow Was the only one I saw; Rode a speckled
chestnut pony With a white star in his face; Asked some questions 'bout
the country, 'Bout the proper crossing-place. Pulled out sometime long
'fore daylight. Didn't see them when they passed, But from all the
indications They was trav'ling pretty fast.
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"Crossed right here where we are settin', Saw their trail that very day;
Struck plumb north, and by my reck'nin' Towards the north they'll
likely stay. North of here, by my experience, He'll find grass that's
mighty fine. Chances are that he'll keep goin' Till he strikes Nebraska's
line. It was just the next day after That my cattle scattered so; Some
strayed off 'way south to Jimson's, One bunch in the bend below. That's
the day I met that feller (Eyes so black he couldn't see) Who kept
pumpin' me with questions Like you've just been askin' me.
12
"Asked about that prairie schooner, Said that they was friends of hisn,
Like to wore me plumb to frazzles With his everlasting quiz'n. Rode a
piebald, knock-kneed broncho; Coat was battered, ripped, and torn; He
was yaller, long, and g'anted Like a steer with holler horn. An' you

oughter seen his breeches! He must sure be shy on sense; Why, they
looked like he'd been riding On a bucking barb wire fence. You won't
meet him, 'cause I saw him Coming back across this way, Going
eastward where he come from; Took the back trail yesterday.
13
"Said he'd found the old man's outfit Moving westward on North Fork.
Can't remember all he told me, For he runs a heap to talk. Said he'd
found out what he wanted; Said he 'had a plan or two, And the folks
that knowed Jim Johnson, Knowed that he would put 'em through.'
Then there's others took the west trail; They got that way huntin'
range-- Funny how folks when they come here Get to itchin' for a
change! I've been stayin' too confinin'; Never left this herd but once.
I'm the oldest puncher round here,-- Been here over fourteen months."
14
Long before the sun had risen, While the night mist's ghostly veil Hid
from view the sloughs and hollows, Billy took the northern trail.
Through the sunflowers in the low land, Plodding over sandstone
knolls, Winding through the level stretches Dotted thick with
treacherous holes Where the prairie dogs sat chattering, Bolt upright
upon their mounds, While the ground owls sought their burrows,
Startled by the warning sounds; Stumbling into buffalo wallows, Dug
out in an earlier day By the halting herds that rested, Rolled and
bellowed in their play.
15
Now and then the sheltered hillside Waved its varicolored flowers As a
greeting to the trav'ler, Solace to the toilsome hours. Old Jack Rabbit
hopped before him, Then sat up, to watch him pass, Dusky
horned-toads scurried nimbly Through the withered buffalo grass. Here
and there the buzzing rattler Whirred a warning, head alert, Then
retreated from the snapping, Stinging strokes of Billy's quirt. Day by
day the wild breeze flying, With'ring in its scorching heat, Hummed a
tune to labored beating Of the plodding horses' feet.

16
Day by day this panorama Passing slowly, dully by, With the sun's
brass disc high gleaming From a white and cloudless sky, Sometimes
drew fantastic pictures. Many a strange and gruesome sign-- Phantom
trees and fairy castles-- Blurred the far horizon line. Then they'd vanish
like the fancies Of a fever-smitten brain, And returning, changed in
outline, Elsewhere on the mighty plain Would allure the eyesore
trav'ler Till the very sky above Seemed to mock with vague mirages
Every surety of love.
17
When each weary day was over, Halting near some watering-place, Bill
unpacked his meager outfit, Turned the horses loose to graze, Baked his
varicolored dough-bread, On a fire of cattle chips;