We lay low in the grass on the broad plain levels, Old Revels and I, and my stolen brown bride.

Forty full miles if a foot to ride,

Forty full miles if a foot and the devils

Of red Camanches are hot on the track
When once they strike it. Let the sun go down
Soon, very soon," muttered bearded old Revels
As he peered at the sun, lying low on his back,
Holding fast to his lasso; then he jerked at his steed,
And sprang to his feet, and glanced swiftly around.
And then dropped, as if shot, with his ear to the
ground,-

Then again to his feet and to me, to my bride,
While his eyes were like fire, his face like a shroud,
His form like a king, and his beard like a cloud,
And his voice loud and shrill, as if blown from
reed,-

a

“Pull, pull in your lassos, and bridle to steed,
And speed, if ever for life you would speed;
And ride for your lives, for your lives you must ride,
For the plain is aflame, the prairie on fire,
And feet of wild horses, hard flying before
I hear like a sea breaking hard on the shore;
While the buffalo come like the surge of the sea,
Driven far by the flame, driving fast on us three
As a hurricane comes, crushing palms in his ire."

We drew in the lassos, seized saddle and rein,
Threw them on, sinched them on, sinched them over
again,

And again drew the girth, cast aside the macheer,
Cut away tapidaros, loosed the sash from its fold,
Cast aside the catenas red and spangled with gold,
And gold-mounted Colts, true companions for years,
Cast the red silk serapes to the wind in a breath
And so bared to the skin sprang all haste to the
horse.

Not a word, not a wail from a lip was let fall,
Not a kiss from my bride, not a look or low call
Of love-note or courage, but on o'er the plain
So steady and still, leaning low to the mane,
With the heel to the flank and the hand to the rein,
Rode we on, rode we three, rode we gray nose and

nose,

Reaching long, breathing loud, like a creviced wind blows,

Yet we spoke not a whisper, we breathed not a prayer,

There was work to be done, there was death in the air, And the chance was as one to a thousand for all.

Gray nose to gray nose and each steady mustang Stretched neck and stretched nerve till the hollow earth rang

And the foam from the flank and the croup and the neck

Flew around like the spray on a storm-driven deck.
Twenty miles! thirty miles a dim distant speck—
Then a long reaching line and the Brazos in sight.
And I rose in my seat with a shout of delight.
I stood in my stirrup and looked to my right,
But Revels was gone; I glanced by my shoulder
And saw his horse stagger; I saw his head drooping
Hard on his breast, and his naked breast stooping

Low down to the mane as so swifter and bolder

Ran reaching out for us the red-footed fire.
To right and to left the black buffalo came,
In miles and in millions, rolling on in despair,
With their beards to the dust and black tails in the

air.

As a terrible surf on a red sea of flame
Rushing on in the rear, reaching high, reaching

higher,

And he rode neck to neck to a buffalo bull,
The monarch of millions, with shaggy mane full
Of smoke and of dust, and it shook with desire
Of battle, with rage and with bellowings loud
And unearthly and up through its lowering cloud
Came the flash of his eyes like a half-hidden fire,
While his keen crooked horns through the storm of

his mane

Like black lances lifted and lifted again;

And I looked but this once, for the fire licked through,

And he fell and was lost, as we rode two and two.

I looked to my left then, and nose, neck, and shoulder
Sank slowly, sank surely, till back to my thighs;
And up through the black blowing veil of her hair
Did beam full in mine her two marvelous eyes
With a longing and love, yet look of despair,
And a pity for me, as she felt the smoke fold her,
And flames reaching far for her glorious hair.
Her sinking steed faltered, his eager ears fell
To and fro and unsteady, and all the neck's swell
Did subside and recede, and the nerves fell as dead.
Then she saw that my own steed still lorded his
head

With a look of delight, for this Paché, you see,
Was her father's and once at the South Santafee
Had won a whole herd, sweeping everything down
In a race where the world came to run for the crown;
And so when I won the true heart of my bride,-

My neighbor's and deadliest enemy's child,
And child of the kingly war-chief of his tribe,-
She brought me this steed to the border the night
She met Revels and me in her perilous flight,

From the lodge of the chief to the north Brazos side;

And said, so half guessing of ill as she smiled,
As if jesting, that I, and I only, should ride
The fleet-footed Paché, so if kin should pursue
I should surely escape without other ado
Than to ride, without blood, to the north Brazos side,
And await her.-and wait till the next hollow moon
Hung her horn in the palms, when surely and soon
And swift she would join me, and all would be well
Without bloodshed or word. And now as she fell
From the front, and went down in the ocean of fire,
The last that I saw was a look of delight
That I should escape,—a love,—a desire,—
Yet never a word, not a look of appeal.—

Till they died with a wild and a desolate moan,
As a sea heart-broken on the hard brown stone,
And into the Brazos I rode all alone-
All alone, save only a horse long-limbed,
And blind and bare and burnt to the skin.
Then just as the terrible sea came in

And tumbled its thousands hot into the tide,
Till the tide blocked up and the swift stream
brimmed

In eddies, we struck on the opposite side.

"Sell Paché-blind Paché? Now, mister! look here!

You have slept in my tent and partook of my cheer
Many days, many days, on this rugged frontier."
For the ways they were rough and Comanches were

near;

heel

One instant for her in my terrible flight.

Then the rushing of fire rose around me and under. And the howling of beast like the sound of thunder.— Beasts burning and blind and forced onward and over, As the passionate flame reached around them and wove her

Hands in their hair, and kissed hot till they died.—

Do you book-men believe, get no tum-tum at all?
Sell Paché! You buy him! a bag full of gold!
You show him! Tell of him the tale I have told!
Why he bore me through fire, and is blind and is
old!

Now pack up your papers, and get up and spin To them cities you tell of. your tin!"

.

Blast

you

and