The Old Prospector’s Dog
What’s that ye say? That yaller dog
Ain’t killed with handsomeness, ye low?
Well, he ain’t travellin’ on his shape,
I tell ye that right here an’ now.
Ye wouldn’t have him follerin’ you,
Ner be ketched dead with him beside?
Well, I don’t want no better pard
When I tramp up the Great Divide.
The beauty club shied off I guess
An’ hit him pretty middlin’ light;
But looks don’t fill no empty tanks—
An’ plain old stay’s what wins a fight.
An’ that dog’s got the stayin’ powers
A long sight more’n the most o’ men;
He’s just clean grit an’ “stay there” mixed,
An’ don’t ask no odds how an’ when.
’Twas crossin’ of the Plomas Range;
I’d made a right big strike, ye see,
An’ ever’ loafer in the camp
Was hangin’ round an’ watchin’ me.
So thinks I: “You’d better pull your freight
Between two suns an’ cache that dust,
Unless ye want some knife to let
Th’ daylight in through your ol’ crust.”
Well, me an’ Watch an’ my ol’ mule
Jest humped ourselves fer three hull days,
An’ then, sez I: “We’ll rest, ol’ pard;
Nobody’s follered us this ways.”
So I just cooks a bit o’ grub
An’ lays right down an’ goes to snorin’,
An’ never knows another thing
Untell I hear ol’ Watch a-roarin’.
I jumped right up an’ into Hell—
A pair o’ Greasers chokin’ me,
An’ punchin’ of me with a knife—
Another’n fightin’ Watch—an he
Jest looks at me an’ keeps a-chawin’
The rascal’s throat, an’ growlin’ low
As if to say: “Hold on, ol’ pard—
I’m comin’ soon’s I git a show.”
I fit an’ scratched an’ dodged that knife—
An’ then my foot slipped on a stone
An’ things looked dark—but next I knowed
Ol’ Watch was playin’ it alone.
He dropped his man an’ tackled mine—
An’ when my head got clear agin
I see a pile o’ rags an’ truck
Where them three Greaser thieves had bin.
An’ that ol’ dog was guardin’ me,
An’ lickin’ of my hands an’ face—
An’ him just red with drippin’ blood—
There wasn’t nary yaller place
On his ol’ hide frum head to foot.
I’se most as bad—but I caught that mule
An’ somehow histed me an’ Watch
Up on ’er back—the night was cool—
An’ we lit out—an’ long near day
I hear ’way off a rooster crowin’—
An’ jest what happened after that
I haint no certain way o’ knowin’;
Fer next I knowed I hear a voice
That kep’ a tellin’ me: “Be still—
Jest swaller this here mighty quick,
An’ when ye’ve et an’ drunk yer fill
I’ll let ye talk. Th’ dog, ye say?
Oh! he’s all right—he saved yer skin;
Come howlin’ here ’fore break o’ day,
An’ we lit out an’ brung ye in—
Him leadin’ right to where you lay—
Down crost th’ wash an’ up th’ hill—
Live? Course he’ll live. Now you hol’ on—
This haint your talk—you jes’ keep still.”
So I lays still—an’ Watch does too—
Jest sort o’ laid up fer repairs,
Fer weeks an’ weeks—till last we got
As hearty as a pair o’ bears.
Then we lit out—a-headin’ straight
Back to th’ ol’ home in Mizzury—
An’ me an’ Watch’ll settle down
An’ take our ease, I jest assure ye.
An’ any feller that thinks our looks
Haint up to par, ner apt to mash
Th’ most o’ folks, kin have his say—
But me an’ Watch has got th’ cash.
An’ its cash that counts—clean cash an’ grit;
An’ Watch has got th’ grit, I low,
An’ me th’ cash—an’ we two’s pards—
But he’s th’ best I tell ye now.
An’ when Life’s fight is fit an’ done,
An’ we go crost th’ Great Divide,
W’y Watch an’ me has made it up
That we’ll be planted side by side.