23

Vain were all the kind entreaties,
  Vain the simple nursing done
To relieve his palsied weakness—­
  Poor old Simon’s course was run. 
Billy spent the night beside him,
  But with next day’s early dawn,
With the east’s first flush of scarlet,
  Simon’s faithful soul passed on. 
Then, with hands outstretched before him,
  Half remembering what was said
When a child he saw the sexton
  Sprinkle earth upon the dead—­
“Dust to dust, and then to ashes—­
  I forget the other part—­
I can’t say the words I want to,
  I can’t think—­all’s in my heart.

24

“Over twenty years, old pardner,
  We have been companions true;
You have always kept your end up
  In the hardships we’ve gone through. 
If we’d stayed, and I had never
  Seen her face or touched her hand,
We should still have been contented,
  On our little piece of land. 
This strange spell won’t let me falter,
  Though the chasing never ends;
Seems that nothing ever’ll stop it,
  Sickness, death, or loss of friends. 
Where this love will drive a fellow,
  I ain’t wise enough to tell;
Sometimes think it leads to heaven
  By a trail that runs through hell.”

25

Weeks thereafter, plodding northward
  Crossing over Lodge Pole creek,
Threading Colorado’s stretches—­
  Sandy deserts wild and bleak—­
Where the sun wars on the living,
  Struggling ’neath his blinding light,
Then resigns his work of ravage
  To the chilling frosts of night;
Where the bleaching bones of horses
  Here and there bestrew the plains,
Telling many a ghastly story
  Of misguided settlers’ trains—­
Where the early frontier ranger
  Marked the first trail to Cheyenne,
Billy, following its wand’rings,
  Found the missing mark again.

26

Then the labored pace grew faster
  As he passed each camping place,
Marking well the lessening distance
  In the long-contested race. 
Riding through Wyoming’s foothills,
  With their rugged summit lines
Stretched across the clear horizon,
  Fringed with pointed spruce and pines,
He beheld, one early morning,
  Rising slowly to the sky,
Smoke—­the thin and gauzy column
  Of a camp fire built close by;
And, on looking down the valley
  With exultant, ringing cheer,
He beheld the prairie schooner
  And the MacIntyres near.

27

On an open spot of grass land
  Gilded by the rising sun,
Sloping sharply to the crevice
  Where the mountain waters run,
Ike, reclining, watched the horses,
  Now increased to quite a band,
While above him, in the timber,
  Brother Bill, with gun in hand,
Held it poised in sudden wonder,
  Half in attitude to shoot,
As he saw the coming rider,
  Heard his loudly yelled salute. 
Near an old abandoned cabin,
  Huddled by the breakfast fire,
Resting calm in fancied safety
  Sat the elder MacIntyre.