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11 Sprawled in the dust with a scream u pain. Suddenly, sharp through the crash ofj Up tronT tfie wreck on the littered C*mesKthenrendlng plea In a mother's A»d thfplain tive wall of a baby’s cries.g Heart stone cold as ms hand The fevered babe at It's mothers World bgonel red as he w w e tl ^ » r*,ne For the battered shell of a dry canux Scene And t hneo wbu rsrhoiwftisn gt o fiag ure of ^nud i B u c k du Molelng his way to a canyon s brink That shelters a pool In a E chooses the dip of a shallow swale. And inches his way like a creeping RTlfl.il Unnoted by all, save a buzzard^ eye, In narrowing circles against the sky. As yet* unseen in the sweeping view_ From the look-out posts of the lurking Now, as°his' nostrils greet thestench I Of tbe pungent damp in bis narrow trench; + Now as his fingers grope aiar And dig, deep down* in the steaming His wrist is clutched by a stranger h a n d ,, Gripping and hot as an iron band. t m in e his head in a startled gaze, lienees a face In the vapored haae. a s s “s & w 'a i 8 5 ? & ? T .» a . , dotted pony, with drooping head, A Sioux, adrift from hls warring band. Has challenged the courage of Buck Durand. 9 The battle Is fought In a volMlOTa wrath, **•of'B ln/w ’ whife T K - Issue of death, while the sun loohed^on The red man fights for ® 8C?^_5>fl»j,Gr>J The white man answers a mothers One w?th the lust of a beast Insane, One for his kind at the wagon train. The buzzard, aloft, with his watchful NarrowsehlB swing in the copper sky ; Tor there. In the edge of the desert Is a headgear made from a turkey’*' w« alsosees. from his high domain. A ribbon of dust on the distantplajg v And the glittering steel as a blue-c5 Rides^like the wind, from an army ‘ 0 0 * * * - * The sergeant tells of a man, near Skirting the wreck of a wagon True to the urge in a mute apj mm li * ill M M y*-;| ’Mi ” B A Bad H alf H fiy Chas, B, Clark, Jr. Wonder why I feel so restless; Moon is shinin’ still and bright, Cattle all is restin’ easy, But I just can’t sleep tonight: A in’t no cactus in my blankets, Don’t know why they feel so hard ’Less it’s W arblin’ Jim a-singin* “Annie Laurie,” out on guard. our Annie Laurie ’— wish he*d quit it, Couldn’t sleep now if I tried, Makes the night seem big and lonesome And my throat feels sore inside. How m*y A---n--n--i-e- --u--s-e-d- to sing it, And it sounded good and gay, lights I took her home from dances Back there in old Ioway. 1 l| Km i~s l&L ,• But her folks said I was “ shif’less,” W ild, unsettled”— they was right, For I came out punchin* cattle An’ I’m at it still tonight— And she married young Doc Wilson, Oh, my Lord, but that was hard!__ Wish that fool would quit his singin’ “Annie Laurie” out on guard. l i wust i m .', ? mm Yes, “her brow was like the snowdrift* ^ And her eyes like quiet streams, “And her face,” I still can see it Much too frequent in my dreams; And her hand was soft and trembly That night underneath the tree When I couldn’t help but tell her She was “ all the world to me.” wm Oh, I just can’t stand it, thinkin’ Of the things that happened then, For them good old days has passed me, And they’ll never come again__ My turn? Sure, I’ll come a-runnin’— Warm me up some coffee, pard__ But I’ll stop that Jim from singin’ Annie Laurie” out on guard. * n # 1 Ifp l ? VJvf;f|lL| 3*9 n mm SIP H ? \0.:~ I.' ?x.+~y m s to 3 i mm wB&lf asassw K I B S i S