Old Spookses Pass | Page 3

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'
through the grass,
Nor a lurkin' red-skin--'twan't my way
In a game
like that to sing out, "I pass!"
But I know'd when I glimps'd the rollin'
whites,
The sparks from the black of the mustang's eye,
Thar wus
somethin' waltzin' up thet way
Thet would send them critters off on
the fly!
XXV.
In the night-air's tremblin', shakin' hands
Felt it beatin' kerslap onto
me,
Like them waves thet chas'd thet President chap
Thet went on
the war-trail in old Judee.
The air wus bustin'--but silent es death;

An' lookin' up, in a second I seed
The sort of sky thet allers looks
down
On the rush an' the roar of a night stampede.
XXVI.
Tearin' along the indigo sky
Wus a drove of clouds, snarl'd an' black;

Scuddin' along to'ards the risin' moon,
Like the sweep of a darn'd
hungry pack
Of preairie wolves to'ard a bufferler,
The heft of the
herd, left out of sight;
I dror'd my breath right hard, fur I know'd

We wus in fur a'tarnal run thet night.
XXVII.
Quiet? Ye bet! The mustang scrounch'd,
His neck stretch'd out an' his
nostrils wide,
The moonshine swept, a white river down,
The black
of the mighty mountain's side,
Lappin' over an' over the stuns an'
brush
In whirls an' swirls of leapin' light,
Makin' straight fur the
herd, whar black an' still,
It stretch'd away to the left an' right
XXVIII.
On the level lot;--I tell ye, pard,
I know'd when it touch'd the first
black hide,
Me an' the mustang would hev a show
Fur a breezy bit

of an' evenin' ride!
One! it flow'd over a homely pine
Thet riz from
a cranny, lean an' lank,
A cleft of the mountain;--reckinin' two,
It
slapp'd onto an' old steer's heavin' flank,
XXIX.
Es sound he slept on the skirt of the herd,
Dreamin' his dreams of the
sweet blue grass
On the plains below; an' afore it touched
The other
wall of "Old Spookses' Pass"
The herd wus up!--not one at a time,

Thet ain't the style in a midnight run,--
They wus up an' off like es all
thair minds
Wus roll'd in the hide of only one!
XXX.
I've fit in a battle, an' heerd the guns
Blasphemin' God with their
devils' yell;
Heerd the stuns of a fort like thunder crash
In front of
the scream of a red-hot shell;
But thet thar poundin' of iron hoofs,

The clatter of horns, the peltin' sweep
Of three thousand head of a
runnin' herd,
Made all of them noises kind of cheap.
XXXI.
The Pass jest open'd its giant throat
An' its lips of granite, an' let a
roar
Of answerin' echoes; the mustang buck'd,
Then answer'd the
bridle; an', pard, afore
The twink of a fire-bug, lifted his legs
Over
stuns an' brush, like a lopin' deer--
A smart leetle critter! An' thar wus
I
'Longside of the plungin' leadin' steer!
XXXII.
A low-set critter, not much account
For heft or looks, but one of them
sort
Thet kin fetch a herd at his darn'd heels
With a toss of his horns
or a mite of a snort,
Fur a fight or a run; an' thar wus I,
Pressin' clus
to the steel of his heavin' flank,
An' cussin' an' shoutin'--while
overhead
The moon in the black clouds tremblin' sank,

XXXIII.
Like a bufferler overtook by the wolves,
An' pull'd tew the ground by
the scuddin' pack.
The herd rush'd oh with a din an' crash,
Dim es a
shadder, vast an' black;
Couldn't tell ef a hide wus black or white,

But from the dim surges a-roarin' by
Bust long red flashes--the
flamin' light
From some old steer's furious an' scareful eye.
XXXIV.
Thet pass in the Rockies fairly roar'd;
An sudden' es winkin' came the
bang
An rattle of thunder. Tew see the grit
Of thet peart little chunk
of a tough mustang!
Not a buck nor a shy!--he gev a snort
Thet
shook the foam on his steamin' hide,
An' leap'd along--Wal, pard, ye
bet
I'd a healthy show fur a lively ride.
XXXV.
An' them cowboys slept in the leetle camp,
Calm es three kids in a
truckle bed;
Declar the crash wus enough tew put
Life in the dust of
the sleepin' dead!
The thunder kept droppin' its awful shells,
One at
a minute, on mountain an' rock:
The pass with its stone lips thunder'd
back;
An' the rush an' roar an' whirlin' shock
Of the runnin' herd
wus fit tew bust
A tenderfoot's heart hed he chanc'd along;
But I
jest let out of my lungs an' throat
A rippin' old verse of a herdsman's
song,
XXXVI.
An' sidl'd the mustang closer up,
'Longside of the leader, an' hit him
flat
On his steamin' flank with a lightsome stroke
Of the end of my
limber lariat;
He never swerv'd, an' we thunder'd on,
Black in the
blackness, red in the red
Of the lightnin' blazin' with ev'ry clap
That