Dawn--and the edge of the red-rimmed sun scattering golden flame, As stumbling down to the water hole came the horse that I thought was dead; But never a sign of the other beast nor a trace of a rider's name; Just a rain-washed track and an empty gun--and the old home trail ahead. _Henry Herbert Knibbs._ WHISKEY BILL,--A FRAGMENT A-DOWN the road and gun in hand Comes Whiskey Bill, mad Whiskey Bill; A-lookin' for some place to land Comes Whiskey Bill. An' everybody'd like to be Ten miles away behind a tree When on his joyous, aching spree Starts Whiskey Bill. The times have changed since you made love, O Whiskey Bill, O Whiskey Bill! The happy sun grinned up above At Whiskey Bill. And down the middle of the street The sheriff comes on toe and feet A-wishin' for one fretful peek At Whiskey Bill. The cows go grazing o'er the lea,-- Poor Whiskey Bill! Poor Whiskey Bill! An' aching thoughts pour in on me Of Whiskey Bill. The sheriff up and found his stride; Bill's soul went shootin' down the slide,-- How are things on the Great Divide, O Whiskey Bill? _Anonymous._ DENVER JIM "SAY, fellers, that ornery thief must be nigh us, For I jist saw him across this way to the right; Ah, there he is now right under that burr-oak As fearless and cool as if waitin' all night. Well, come on, but jist get every shooter all ready Fur him, if he's spilin' to give us a fight; The birds in the grove will sing chants to our picnic An' that limb hangin' over him stands about right. "Say, stranger, good mornin'. Why, dog blast my lasso, boys, If it ain't Denver Jim that's corralled here at last. Right aside for the jilly. Well, Jim, we are searchin' All night for a couple about of your cast. An' seein' yer enter this openin' so charmin' We thought perhaps yer might give us the trail. Haven't seen anything that would answer description? What a nerve that chap has, but it will not avail. "Want to trade hosses fur the one I am stridin'! Will you give me five hundred betwixt fur the boot? Say, Jim, that air gold is the strongest temptation An' many a man would say take it and scoot. But we don't belong to that denomination; You have got to the end of your rope, Denver Jim. In ten minutes more we'll be crossin' the prairie, An' you will be hangin' there right from that limb.