20

Then the trail along the Solomon
  Where the timber, making friends
With the ever-widening valley,
  Filled the rounded river bends;
Then the rankling recollection,
  As he passed some well-known place
Where before, with hope and vigor,
  He had sped in fruitless chase. 
Then the lonely camp at nightfall,
  Where the wind in monotone
Thrummed the harp strings of the grass stems,
  Breathing low its song, “Alone!”
Where the stars, fixed in the heavens,
  To his upturned face would say,
With their heartless glint of distance,
  “She thou seek’st is far away.”

21

Then the long, far-reaching bottoms
  Rank with withered blue-joint grass,
With its broken stems entangled
  In a matted jungle mass;
Then across the higher prairie,
  Searching out a shorter way,
To the creek that joined the river
  Where Mac crossed and got away;
Then the twinge of bitter sorrow
  As he neared his journey’s end,
And beheld the fringe of timber
  On the banks of Old Man’s bend,
Where no living sign or token
  Broke the gloom that brooded there,
Save a solitary buzzard
  Floating idly in the air.

22

From these high and broken hilltops
  He could trace the river’s flow,
And the creek’s untamed meandering,
  With its looplike bend below,
Seeming in the light of evening
  Like a giant serpent there,
Which had coiled about its victim,
  And lay resting in its lair. 
Breaking through the tangled brushwood
  As the night was coming on,
Creeping down the steep embankment
  Where the muddy waters run,
Billy crossed within the timber
  Where the shroud of deeper gloom,
And its chilling breath of darkness
  Marked the hidden prairie tomb.

23

As the soul in deep communion,
  Seeks some isolated bower
Where the body’s sordid cravings
  Yield beneath the spirit’s power,
So the searcher, bowed in reverence,
  Left untouched his evening fare
As he listened to the voices
  Of the shadows gathering there. 
Here no lighted torch or camp fire
  With its weak and fitful ray,
Could illume the mystic journey
  Of prayer’s consecrated way. 
Here the silence brought its message
  Of forebodings, vague and deep,
In its visions to the dreamer,
  Through the mystery of sleep.

24

In his dreams he saw a monarch
  Decked in sumptuous array,
Seated on a throne of glory,
  Bearing royal title, Day. 
Then some mighty power transcendent,
  Thrust him from his gorgeous throne,
Turning all the realm to darkness,
  And the world was left alone. 
As the shades of gloom were spreading,
  By strange flashing threads of light
He beheld in dim-drawn outline,
  On the background of the night,
Phantom horse and girlish rider,
  Speeding on in reckless race,
Till she turned directly toward him
  And he saw her fearless face.