Prairie Smoke, a Collection of Lore of the Prairies

by Melvin R. Gilmore

I

Dark against the sky yonder distant line
Lies before us. Trees we see, long the line of trees,
Bending, swaying in the breeze.

II

Bright with flashing light yonder distant line
Runs before us, swiftly runs, swift the river runs,
Winding, flowing o’er the land.

III

Hark! O hark! A sound, yonder distant sound
Comes to greet us, singing comes, soft the river’s song,
Rippling gently ’neath the trees.

In the foregoing song one can hear the constant murmur of the summer south wind as it blows in that country for days, and see the broad stretch of the great level land, gently undulating in places, with its eastward-flowing streams bordered by zones of trees, the timbered zones along the stream courses being the only forest land in that country.

THRILLING ESCAPE OF A WAR PARTY OUTNUMBERED AND SURROUNDED BY THEIR ENEMIES

A Pawnee Story

In the northwest part of Nebraska there is a high butte with perpendicular sides like the walls of a great building. Because of the shape of this butte, and because it is composed mostly of a soft rock or hard, firm clay, it is called Court-House Rock by the white people. Of course it has other names among the Indian tribes of that region.