Once a Yaqui knifed a woman, jealous mad, Then hit southward with the old, old killer's plan, And nobody missed the woman very bad, While they'd just a little rather missed the man. But the ranger crossed his trail and sniffed it glad, And then loped away to bring him back again, For he stood for peace and order on the lonely, sunny border And his business was to hunt for sinful men! So the trail it led him southward all the day, Through the shinin' country of the thorn and snake, Where the heat had drove the lizards from their play To the shade of rock and bush and yucca stake. And the mountains heaved and rippled far away And the desert broiled as on the devil's prong, But he didn't mind the devil if his head kept clear and level And the hoofs beat out their clear and steady song. Came the yellow west, and on a far off rise Something black crawled up and dropped beyond the rim, And he reached his rifle out and rubbed his eyes While he cussed the southern hills for growin' dim. Down a hazy 'royo came the coyote cries, Like they laughed at him because he'd lost his mark, And the smile that brands a fighter pulled his mouth a little tighter As he set his spurs and rode on through the dark. Came the moonlight on a trail that wriggled higher Through the mountains that look into Mexico, And the shadows strung his nerves like banjo wire And the miles and minutes dragged unearthly slow. Then a black mesquite spit out a thread of fire And the canyon walls flung thunder back again, And he caught himself and fumbled at his rifle while he grumbled That his bridle arm had weight enough for ten. Though his rifle pointed wavy-like and slack And he grabbed for leather at his hawse's shy, Yet he sent a soft-nosed exhortation back That convinced the sinner--just above the eye. So the sinner sprawled among the shadows black While the ranger drifted north beneath the moon, Wabblin' crazy in his saddle, workin' hard to stay a-straddle While the hoofs beat out a slow and sorry tune. When the sheriff got up early out of bed, How he stared and vowed his soul a total loss, As he saw the droopy thing all blotched with red That came ridin' in aboard a tremblin' hawse. But "I got 'im" was the most the ranger said And you couldn't hire him, now, to tell the tale; He was just a quiet ranger, just a ridin' pilgrim stranger And he labored with the sinners of the trail. _Charles Badger Clark, Jr._ THE INSULT I'VE swum the Colorado where she runs close down to hell; I've braced the faro layouts in Cheyenne; I've fought for muddy water with a bunch of howlin' swine An' swallowed hot tamales and cayenne;