"That's all right," said Lon Pelly. "Bein' a little inclined don't hurt any. But if you keep on reachin' for Joy, your foot is like to slip. Then comes Trouble."
"Lon's qualified for the finals once or twice," said the Senator. "Now, take me, for a horrible example. I been navigatin' Green River, off and on, for quite a spell, and I never got hung up bad."
"Speaking of rivers, they're rather scarce in this country, I believe," said Bartley.
"Yes. But some of 'em are noticeable in the rainy season," stated Senator Steve. "But you ain't seen Arizona. You've only been peekin' through your fingers at her. Wait till you get on a cayuse and hit the trail for a few hundred miles--that's the only way to see the country. Now, take 'Cheyenne.' He rides this here country from Utah to the border, and he can tell you somethin' about Arizona.
"Cheyenne is a kind of hobo puncher that rides the country with his little old pack-horse, stoppin' by to work for a grubstake when he has to, but ramblin' most of the time. He used to be a top-hand once. Worked for me a spell. But he can't stay in one place long. Wish you could meet him sometime. He can tell you more about this State than any man I know. He's what you might call a character for a story. He stops by regular, at the ranch, mebby for a day or two, and then takes the trail, singin' his little old song. He's kind of a outdoor poet. Makes up his own songs."
"What was that one about Arizona that you gave 'em over to the State House onct?" queried Lon Pelly.
"Oh, that wa'n't Cheyenne's own po'try. It was one he read in a magazine that he gave me. Let's see--
"Arizona! The tramp of cattle,
The biting dust and the raw, red brand:
Shuffling sheep and the smoke of battle:
The upturned face--and the empty hand.
"Dawn and dusk, and the wide world singing,
Songs that thrilled with the pulse of life,
As we clattered down with our rein chains ringing
To woo you--but never to make you wife."
The Senator smiled a trifle apologetically. "There's more of it. But po'try ain't just in my line. Once in a while I bust loose on po'try--that is, my kind of po'try. And I want to say that we sure clattered down from the Butte and the Blue in the old days, with our rein chains jinglin', thinkin'--some of us--that Arizona was ours to fare-ye-well.
"But we old-timers lived to find out that Arizona was too young to get married yet; so we just had to set back and kind of admire her, after havin' courted her an amazin' lot, in our young days." The Senator chuckled. "Now, Lon, here, he'll tell you that there ain't no po'try in this here country. And I never knew they was till I got time to set back and think over what we unbranded yearlin's used to do."