Ye shall not judge men by the drinks they take,
Nor by unthinking oath, nor what they wear,
For look! the mitered liars protest make
And drinking know they lie, and knowing swear.
No oath is round without the rounded fruit,
Nor pompous promise hides the ultimate.
In scarlet as in overalls and tailored suit
To-morrows truemen and the traitors wait
Untold by trick of blazonry or voice.
But harvest ripens and there come the reaping days
When each shall choose one path to bide the choice,
And ye shall know men when they face dividing ways.


To those who have never ridden knee to knee with outlaws full pelt
into unknown darkness, with a burning house behind, and a whole horizon
lit with the rolling glow of murdered villages, let it be written
that the sensation of so doing is creepy, most amazing wild, and
not without unrighteous pleasure.

There was a fierce joy that burned without consuming, and a consciousness
of having crossed a rubicon. Points of view are left behind in a
moment, although the proof may not be apparent for days or weeks,
and I reckon our mental change from being merely hunters of an ancient
castle and big game-tourists-trippers, from that hour. As we galloped
behind Kagig the mesmerism of respect for custom blew away in the
wind. We became at heart outlaws as we rode--and one of us a privy
councilor of England!

The women, Maga included, were on in front. The night around and