All the ills of life had vanished,
On his mountain torrent snore.
So when our descent awoke him
Sitting bolt upright in bed,
With the flying hoofs above him,
Kicking hair off of his head,
He aroused his sleeping helpmeet;
Loud his curses and abuse,
"Mary, hike your lazy carcass,
Hell has turned the devil loose."

[Illustration: "Bringing back a hat of water,
Through the dim light and the rain."]


13

While ole Jim was shooting at us--
Couldn't make him understand;
Kept his blamed old gun a-going
Till he got me through the hand--
Not a whimper did you utter,
But you grabbed the hosses' heads,
Coaxed and helped them in their trouble,
While they strove like thoroughbreds,
Lunging, plunging, you stayed with them
Till they both were clear and free.
Riding one, you lashed them forward,
Circled round and picked up me,
Helped me mount, while Jim was loading;