"Yer soul wus white es yer skin them days,
Yer eyes es clar es the creek at rest;
The wust idee in yer head thet time
Wus robbin' a bluebird's swingin' nest.
Now ain't ye changed? declar fur it, pard;
Thet creek would question, it 'pears tew me,
Ef ye looked in its waters agin tew night,
'Who may this old cuss of a sinner be?'"
XXI.
Thet wus the style thet thet thar creek
In "Old Spookses' Pass," in the Rockies, talked;
Drowzily list'nin' I rode round the herd.
When all of a sudden the mustang balked,
An' shied with a snort; I never know'd
Thet tough leetle critter tew show a scare
In storm or dark; but he jest scrouch'd down,
With his nostrils snuffin' the damp, cool air,
XXII.
An' his flanks a-quiver. Shook up? Wal, yes
Guess'd we hev heaps of tarnation fun;
I calculated quicker'n light
That the herd would be off on a healthy run.
But thar warn't a stir tew horn or hoof;
The herd, like a great black mist, lay spread,
While har an' thar a grazin' bull
Loom'd up, like a mighty "thunder head."
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.
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