Wessington Springs herald. (Wessington Springs, Aurora County, Dakota [S.D.]) 1883-1891, 1884-06-06
a OIL HORSE"

What horse is that, away BY the railin',
why. gracious Hs1 man! Why, never ne surely.
You can't be askin' what horse is that.
Not know him2 Old Billy? Macs pony!
Some oulandish divide, / reckon,
Or else you'd a-hearn of the good old bay.
New to the country, TIM thinkin', stranger?
Tenderfooti fresh on the range, of course.
There isn't a fellow in Western Texas
But tumbies to chat about that old horse.
A good one? Yes, he'sa dandy, surely;
They raise none better whar' that 'un grew.
Introducin' that nag to you.
A pioneer2 Well, shouldn't wonder
II he was q sort Of a ono out here.
Macs own locate" amt a recent issue,
An Billy's beat him q good nine year.
Thar isn't a trail on the boundiess prairie,
Rollin away thar beyond your view,
Nor a wagon track, nor a foot of country,
Unfamiliar to that old shoe.
KNOWN? You bet. Why, the boys was tellin'
,rb a ta free Of the ;a 3ld horse here one h day
Out of the country-clean away.
I'm green at the biznes' of yarnin', still,
If you're sot-here's luck. Now your pipe
needs film,
Fasten your Boots to the window sill.
More than a year agone this season
Mac was abroad on q big survey,
Away beyond the Canadian country
StillpIlk VOV Will bLC ROOO O1O UHys
Thu feelia' a man on the border ranges
Gives to his horse is a feelin' too leal
And true of grip, for an Eastern coot, sir,
Either to understand or feel.
Darkness out on the prairie, stranger.
Drops on the earth like a funeral pail,
tunnel out thro' a big black wall.
It's lonely, too, in the depth of midnight,
When angel lanterns are burnin' dim
An the wine and you are the sole things
mOVin'
In the belt Of the far horizon rim.
Over the ranges, swiftly speedin',
Mac and tho outfit came that night,
strainin,, to make the post by daybreak-
Ridin' BY faith, for the want OF sight.
All of q sudden, the old bay horse
Stood. in his tracks like a brazen image
Thar in the midst of his headlong course.
Mac he coaxed, an he spurred and grumbled,
Billy was holdin' the fort, you bet;
Sinews strung to a taut resistance,
Head thrown back'rd an forefeet set.
Mac swore hard rs he peered around him,
Nary a thing could he find or see;
Meyer a ghost, nor q witch. nor spirit,
Nor even the trunk of u blasted tree.
Well, sir. hndin' tho horse meant bizness,
Mac d~ismounted an russeled round,
HuEtin a hole or an old dog village,
Or anything else to be felt or found;
The prairie yawned, an the ground lust fell
'oAcoIs Ill q canyon, u hundred lannon's
AS deep aa' black as the mouth of hell.
Killed2 Well, yes, sir, I shouldn't wonder;
The anyon broke in a naked wau;
No one on earth would ever nave known. sir.
All that was left from the fearful fall.
Crushed to a pulp on the rocks an brambles,
Man an beast must ave shaped q course
Freight caose-laid for a better country,
But for the sense Of the old bay horse.
Sell that horse! Old Billy! Now, stranger,
You must be runnin' insurance hirh
TO ask q question like that in Texas,
An look to a man for n soft reply;
Or else you're jokin! A poor jest, surely,
An one unbecomin' a man to make;
i wouldn't repeat it to Mac, exactly,
Unless L was willing to move my stake.
Detroit Free Press.