Said the old Texas cowman, "Now I'm tellin' you!

"I've been in this yere country Since late in fifty-nine, I know every foot o' sage brush Clear to the southern line.

Got my first bunch started up Long in seventy-two, Had to ride range with a long rope-- Now I'm tellin' you!

"Lordy, I kin remember Them good ole early days When we ust t' trail the herds north 'N forty different ways.

Jes'n point 'em from the beddin' groun'

An' let 'em drift right through,"

Said the reminiscent cowman, "Now I'm tellin' you!

"Yessir, trailed 'em up to Wichita, Cross the Kansas line, Made deliveries at Benton As early as fifty-nine.

Turned 'em most to soldiers, Some went to Injuns, too, Beef wasn't nigh so high then-- Now I'm tellin' you!

"Son, I've fit nigh every Injun That ever roamed the plains, 'N I was one o' the best hands That ever pulled bridle reins.

Why, you boys don't know range life-- You don't seem to git the ways, Like we did down in Texas In them good ol' early days!

"Yes, thing's a heap sight diff'rent now!

'Tain't like in them ol' days When cowmen trailed their herds north 'N forty diff'rent ways.

We ship 'em on the railroad now, Load out on the big S. P.,"

Says the relic of Texas cowman As he takes a drink with me.

"I figger on buyin' more feeders, From down across the line-- Chihuahua an' Sonora stuff, An' hold 'em till they're prime.

So here's to the steers an' yearlin's!"

As we clink our gla.s.ses two, "Things ain't the same as they used to be, Now I'm tellin' you!

"I got t' git out an' hustle, I ain't got time t' stay; Jes' want t' see some uh the boys 'N then I'm on my way.

There's many a hand here right now That I know'd long, long ago, When ranch land was free an' open An' the plowman had a show.

"'Tain't often we git together To swap yarns an' tell our lies,"

Said the old time Texas cowman As a mist comes to his eyes.

"So let's drink up; here's how!"

As we drain our gla.s.ses two, "Them was good ol' days an' good ol' ways-- Now I'm tellin' you!"

He talked and talked and yarned away, He harped on days of yore-- My head it ached and I grew faint; My legs got tired and sore.

Then a woman yelled, "You come here, John!"

And Lordy! how he flew!

And the last I heard as he broke and ran Was, "Now I'm tellin' you!"

I won't never hail old timers To have a drink with me, To learn the history of the range As far back as seventy-three.

And the next time that I'm thirsty And feeling kind of blue, I'll step right up and drink alone-- Now I'm tellin' you!

_From the Wild Bunch._

THE CLOWN'S BABY

IT was on the western frontier,-- The miners, rugged and brown, Were gathered round the posters, The circus had come to town!

The great tent shone in the darkness Like a wonderful palace of light, And rough men crowded the entrance,-- Shows didn't come every night!

Not a woman's face among them; Many a face that was bad, And some that were only vacant, And some that were very sad.

And behind a canvas curtain, In a corner of the place, The clown, with chalk and vermillion, Was "making up" his face.

A weary looking woman With a smile that still was sweet, Sewed on a little garment, With a cradle at her feet.

Pantaloon stood ready and waiting, It was time for the going on; But the clown in vain searched wildly,-- The "property baby" was gone!

He murmured, impatiently hunting, "It's strange that I cannot find-- There, I've looked in every corner; It must have been left behind!"

The miners were stamping and shouting, They were not patient men; The clown bent over the cradle,-- "I must take you, little Ben."

The mother started and shivered, But trouble and want were near; She lifted the baby gently, "You'll be very careful, dear?"

"Careful? You foolish darling!"

How tenderly it was said!

What a smile shone through the chalk and paint!

"I love each hair of his head!"

The noise rose into an uproar, Misrule for the time was king; The clown with a foolish chuckle Bolted into the ring.

But as, with a squeak and flourish, The fiddles closed their tune "You'll hold him as if he were made of gla.s.s?"

Said the clown to the pantaloon.

The jovial fellow nodded, "I've a couple myself," he said.

"I know how to handle 'em, bless you!

Old fellow, go ahead!"

The fun grew fast and furious, And not one of all the crowd Had guessed that the baby was alive, When he suddenly laughed aloud.

Oh, that baby laugh! It was echoed From the benches with a ring, And the roughest customer there sprang up With, "Boys, it's the real thing."

The ring was jammed in a minute, Not a man that did not strive For a "shot at holding the baby,"-- The baby that was alive!

He was thronged with kneeling suitors In the midst of the dusty ring, And he held his court right royally,-- The fair little baby king,-- Till one of the shouting courtiers,-- A man with a bold, hard face, The talk, for miles, of the country, And the terror of the place,

Raised the little king to his shoulder And chuckled, "Look at that!"

As the chubby fingers clutched his hair; Then, "Boys, hand round the hat!"

There never was such a hatful Of silver and gold and notes; People are not always penniless Because they don't wear coats.

And then, "Three cheers for the baby!"

I tell you those cheers were meant, And the way that they were given Was enough to raise the tent.

And then there was sudden silence And a gruff old miner said, "Come boys, enough of this rumpus; It's time it was put to bed."

So, looking a little sheepish, But with faces strangely bright, The audience, somewhat lingering, Flocked out into the night.

And the bold-faced leader chuckled, "He wasn't a bit afraid!

He's as game as he's good-looking!

Boys, that was a show that _paid_!"

_Margaret Vandergrift._

THE DRUNKEN DESPERADO