The American Desert, as it was marked on the old maps, faded away and became the homes of multiplied thousands under his personal observation. Perhaps no man has seen a greater advance of civilization, in the same length of time, than this old plainsman, whose picture, together with his daughter Alene, will be found in this chapter.
BILL KRESS'S YEARNINGS FOR THE BUFFALO RANGE.
1. It comes to me often in silence,
When the firelight glimmers low,
And the black, uncertain shadows
Seem wraiths of long ago.
Always with a throb of heart-ache,
That thrills each pulsive vein,
Comes that old, unquiet longing,