Old Spookses Pass | Page 2

fills the air?With a cur'us sort of a singin' tone.?It ain't no matter wharever ye be,?(I'll 'low it's a cur'us sort of case)?Whar thar's runnin' water, it's sure to speak?Of folks tew home an' the old home place;
XI.
An' yer bound tew listen an' hear it talk,?Es yer mustang crunches the dry, bald sod;?Fur I reckin' the hills, an' stars, an' creek?Are all of 'em preachers sent by God.?An' them mountains talk tew a chap this way:?"Climb, if ye can, ye degenerate cuss!"?An' the stars smile down on a man, an say,?"Come higher, poor critter, come up tew us!"
XII.
An' I reckin', pard, thar is One above?The highest old star that a chap can see,?An' He says, in a solid, etarnal way,?"Ye never can stop till ye get to ME!"?Good fur Him, tew! fur I calculate?HE ain't the One to dodge an' tew shirk,?Or waste a mite of the things He's made,?Or knock off till He's finished His great Day's work!
XIII.
We've got to labor an' strain an' snort?Along thet road thet He's planned an' made;?Don't matter a mite He's cut His line?Tew run over a 'tarnal, tough up-grade;?An' if some poor sinner ain't built tew hold?Es big a head of steam es the next,?An' keeps slippin' an' slidin' 'way down hill,?Why, He don't make out that He's awful vex'd.
XIV.
Fur He knows He made Him in that thar way,?Somewhars tew fit In His own great plan,?An' He ain't the Bein' tew pour His wrath?On the head of thet slimpsy an' slippery man,?An' He says tew the feller, "Look here, my son,?You're the worst hard case that ever I see,?But be thet it takes ye a million y'ars,?Ye never can stop till ye git tew ME!"
XV.
Them's my idees es I pann'd them out;?Don't take no stock in them creeds that say,?Thar's a chap with horns thet's took control?Of the rollin' stock on thet up-grade way,?Thet's free to tote up es ugly a log?Es grows in his big bush grim an' black,?An' slyly put it across the rails,?Tew hist a poor critter clar off the track.
XVI.
An' when he's pooty well busted an' smash'd,?The devil comes smilin' an' bowin' round,?Says tew the Maker, "Guess ye don't keer?Tew trouble with stock thet ain't parfactly sound;?Lemme tote him away--best ye can do--?Neglected, I guess, tew build him with care;?I'll hide him in hell--better thet folks?Shouldn't see him laid up on the track for repair!"
XVII.
Don't take no stock in them creeds at all;?Ain't one of them cur'us sort of moles?Thet think the Maker is bound to let?The devil git up a "corner" in souls.?Ye think I've put up a biggish stake??Wal, I'll bet fur all I'm wuth, d'ye see??He ain't wuth shucks thet won't dar tew lay?All his pile on his own idee!
XVIII.
Ye bet yer boots I am safe tew win,?Es the chap thet's able tew smilin' smack?The ace he's been hidin' up his sleeve?Kerslap on top of a feller's jack!?Es I wus sayin', the night wus dark,?The lightnin' skippin' from star to star;?Thar wa'n't no clouds but a thread of mist,?No sound but the coyotes yell afar,
XIX.
An' the noise of the creek as it called tew me,?"Pard, don't ye mind the mossy, green spot?Whar a creek stood still fur a drowzin' spell?Right in the midst of the old home lot??Whar, right at sundown on Sabba'day,?Ye skinn'd yerself of yer meetin' clothes,?An dove, like a duck, whar the water clar?Shone up like glass through the lily-blows?
XX.
"Yer soul wus white es yer skin them days,?Yer eyes es clar es the creek at rest;?The wust idee in yer head thet time?Wus robbin' a bluebird's swingin' nest.?Now ain't ye changed? declar fur it, pard;?Thet creek would question, it 'pears tew me,?Ef ye looked in its waters agin tew night,?'Who may this old cuss of a sinner be?'"
XXI.
Thet wus the style thet thet thar creek?In "Old Spookses' Pass," in the Rockies, talked;?Drowzily list'nin' I rode round the herd.?When all of a sudden the mustang balked,?An' shied with a snort; I never know'd?Thet tough leetle critter tew show a scare?In storm or dark; but he jest scrouch'd down,?With his nostrils snuffin' the damp, cool air,
XXII.
An' his flanks a-quiver. Shook up? Wal, yes?Guess'd we hev heaps of tarnation fun;?I calculated quicker'n light?That the herd would be off on a healthy run.?But thar warn't a stir tew horn or hoof;?The herd, like a great black mist, lay spread,?While har an' thar a grazin' bull?Loom'd up, like a mighty "thunder head."
XXIII.
I riz in my saddle an' star'd around--?On the mustang's neck I felt the sweat;?Thar wus nuthin' tew see--sort of felt the har?Commencin' tew crawl on my scalp, ye bet!?Felt kind of cur'us--own up I did;?Felt sort of dry in my mouth an' throat.?Sez I, "Ye ain't goin' tew scare, old hoss,?At a prowlin' coss of a blamed coyote?"
XXIV.
But 'twan't no coyote nor prowlin' beast.?Nor rattle a-wrigglin'