XLI.

What could stop us? I grit my teeth;
Think I pray'd--ain't sartin of thet;
When, whizzin' an' singin', thar came the rush
Right past my face of a lariat!
"Bully fur you, old pard!" I roar'd,
Es it whizz'd roun' the leader's steamin' chest,
An' I wheel'd the mustang fur all he was wuth
Kerslap on the side of the old steer's breast.


XLII.

He gev a snort, an' I see him swerve--
I foller'd his shoulder clus an' tight;
Another swerve, an' the herd begun
To swing around.--Shouts I, "All right
"Ye've fetch'd 'em now!" The mustang gave
A small, leettle whinney. I felt him flinch.
Sez I, "Ye ain't goin' tew weaken now,
Old feller, an' me in this darn'd pinch?"


XLIII.

"No," sez he, with his small, prickin' ears,
Plain es a human could speak; an' me--
I turn'd my head tew glimpse ef I could,
Who might the chap with the lariat be.