"Over twenty years, old pardner, We have been companions true; You have always kept your end up In the hardships we've gone through. If we'd stayed, and I had never Seen her face or touched her hand, We should still have been contented, On our little piece of land. This strange spell won't let me falter, Though the chasing never ends; Seems that nothing ever'll stop it, Sickness, death, or loss of friends. Where this love will drive a fellow, I ain't wise enough to tell; Sometimes think it leads to heaven By a trail that runs through hell." 25 Weeks thereafter, plodding northward Crossing over Lodge Pole creek, Threading Colorado's stretches-- Sandy deserts wild and bleak-- Where the sun wars on the living, Struggling 'neath his blinding light, Then resigns his work of ravage To the chilling frosts of night; Where the bleaching bones of horses Here and there bestrew the plains, Telling many a ghastly story Of misguided settlers' trains-- Where the early frontier ranger Marked the first trail to Cheyenne, Billy, following its wand'rings, Found the missing mark again. 26 Then the labored pace grew faster As he passed each camping place, Marking well the lessening distance In the long-contested race. Riding through Wyoming's foothills, With their rugged summit lines Stretched across the clear horizon, Fringed with pointed spruce and pines, He beheld, one early morning, Rising slowly to the sky, Smoke--the thin and gauzy column Of a camp fire built close by; And, on looking down the valley With exultant, ringing cheer, He beheld the prairie schooner And the MacIntyres near. 27 On an open spot of grass land Gilded by the rising sun, Sloping sharply to the crevice Where the mountain waters run, Ike, reclining, watched the horses, Now increased to quite a band, While above him, in the timber, Brother Bill, with gun in hand, Held it poised in sudden wonder, Half in attitude to shoot, As he saw the coming rider, Heard his loudly yelled salute. Near an old abandoned cabin, Huddled by the breakfast fire, Resting calm in fancied safety Sat the elder MacIntyre. [Illustration: "Resting calm in fancied safety Sat the elder MacIntyre."] 28 "You! Why, Billy, where d'you come from? What new game you playing now? If you're out on posse business By the gods, jest start your row! What you saying? You are friendly? Wal, I'm glad to hear it's so; And I s'pose you made the journey Way out here to let me know! Oh! you're talking 'bout our Nancy! Now I just begin to see. Set down, Billy; you are askin' Something that sure puzzles me. Nancy ain't like other women-- What I say may hit you queer, But it's jest as well to tell you-- That there girl--she isn't here. 29