The Powder River County examiner and the Broadus independent. [volume] (Broadus, Mont.) 1919-1935, 1920-12-31
PsfIlI y lABqNIfl y 9
Of the WEST N
tAlti DAYS
MRS. HALLE BOWLES JACOBS,
THE WRITER, FORMERLY
RIDER IN THIS COUNTY


RIDER IN THIS COUNTY
Activities of pioneer life in this
section of Montana are very capably
depicted in verse. written by Halle
Bowles Jacobs Of Anoka. Mimi, and
a daughter of Mrs. M. r. Burgess, q
pioneer resident here.
Mrs. Bowles spent her girlhood
days on the range in What is now
Powder River county Sst:ea can be
classed as a member of the old
school as her riding was not for
pleasure but for work. Since she
has resided in the east she has given
considerable time to literature and
music. Her articles have appeared
upon the pages IF the Musical Lead
CIR, Etude and Argus magazines. Be-
ing daughter of a pioneer she has
ever been loyal to the west. Her
father, w. A. Bowles, located in
Montana in 1876.
The literary contributions here
with are printed by the Examiner for
the first time:
PALS
In the quiet hour of twilight.
When the toll Of day is through:
In that time Of treasured memories.
Ny thoughts drift back to you.
Across the years. when you aud J., pal.
fn yD1a
Tho today, that life is history
Our friendship still remains.
IN those days when life was reckless,
With no limit to the bets,
When tobacco was above par
We smoked sage-brush cigarettes.
We together rCde on sfOund-up,
Side by side, we>stood our guards:
Shared the same old lumpy sougens,
Played the same old game at cards.
Once. when we We're on our uppers.
And our .kale was mighty thin; -
Tor t;,at .snk -ssouse >tscishe OF pokers
Had net been our luck to win,
We said no word. for we had ever
Shared alike. the losing hand,
Just as we had whacked the winnings
EVEN money, W6S ouf StdNu
When our grub pile was reduced to
prunes.
Lady cooks, those days were rare,
We saddled up. and hit the breeze;
To Mrs. Deafy's for a square.
In the evening when we'd finished
work.
We sat around the fire:
To hear George No'z. the "Es.nge De-
pew
Spin yarns that were weird and dire.
Way back in the early SOS.
Ed. Saber rod- III with the news,
Our saddle horses would be treated.
To a visit from the Sioux.
We demonstrated that each good In
dian,
Must go elsewhere to get mount,
For at sun-down, that remember.
Tailed with the i:lEaler's count
Remember you, the old pack outfit,
We trailed from southern Idaho,
How. to reach the N.Bar l.ne camp,
Across the Dead Line We r,ust &C?
The way those sheep rl,n pumped lead
to us.
Looked like curtains. for me and
you;
lBut we Wen, to Little Powder.
And we took ou: cattle too
Ecy, We made our stand together,
In the Johnson County row.
The ASS whizzed thick and fast,
1t seems ] hear them now.
Rut their aim and marksma,.ship.
l could not compl i,nent at all,
And we logged the despcraats
'Till they reached the Ho,c-in- the
Wall.
Long ago. when Miles City.
Was Il village, small and quaint;
At Sam Peppers. 1 got the notion.
That it was in need Of paint.
The way l used my Old smoke wagon.
Would have male Dalton quail;
l lasted quick. they slOughel me in.
And YOU bailed me out of fail.
When my roulette expenditures
Went beyond my pocketbcok,
Hotel rates, were but a vision,
At bills-of-fare, dared not look
I'd have left the old town walking,
If it had not been for you,
When Bement tried to impress me
That my livery bill was due.
Though you've made fortune. partner,
The many years have made no
change;
You're the same old time COW puncher,
Whom / rode with on the range.
When I make a retrospective trip.
To the days that love best:
I go down the trail. ~hen you and
Were ranging in the West.