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' 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