XXXVIII.
An' struck his side with my fist an' foot—
'Twas jest like hittin' a rushin' stone,
An' he thunder'd ahead—I couldn't boss
The critter a mossel, I'm free tew own.
The sweat come a-pourin' down my beard;
Ef ye wonder wharfor, jest ye spread
Yerself far a ride with a runnin' herd,
A yawnin' gulch half a mile ahead.
XXXIX.
Three hundred foot from its grinnin' lips
Tew the roarin' stream on its stones below.
Once more I hurl'd the mustang up
Agin the side of the cuss call'd Joe;
Twan't a mite of use—he riz his heels
Up in the air, like a scuddin' colt;
The herd mass'd closer, an' hurl'd down
The roarin' Pass, like a thunderbolt.
XL.
I couldn't rein off—seem'd swept along
In the rush an' roar an' thunderin' crash;
The lightnin' struck at the runnin' herd
With a crack like the stroke of a cowboy's lash.
Thar! I could see it; I tell ye, pard,
Things seem'd whittl'd down sort of fine—
We wasn't five hundred feet from the gulch,
With its mean little fringe of scrubby pine.
XLI.
What could stop us? I grit my teeth;
Think I pray'd—ain't sartin of thet;
When, whizzin' an' singin', thar came the rush
Right past my face of a lariat!
"Bully fur you, old pard!" I roar'd,
Es it whizz'd roun' the leader's steamin' chest,
An' I wheel'd the mustang fur all he was wuth
Kerslap on the side of the old steer's breast.
XLII.
He gev a snort, an' I see him swerve—
I foller'd his shoulder clus an' tight;
Another swerve, an' the herd begun
To swing around.—Shouts I, "All right
"Ye've fetch'd 'em now!" The mustang gave
A small, leettle whinney. I felt him flinch.
Sez I, "Ye ain't goin' tew weaken now,
Old feller, an' me in this darn'd pinch?"