ected.
"By gosh, that's darned good po'try! I never knowed Johnny could--"

He was frowned into silence by the reader, who went on exuberantly, the
lines punctuated by profane gurgles from the author.

"Now this here," Bud paused to explain, "was c'lab'rated on by Mary V.
The first line was wrote by our 'steemed young friend an' skyrider poet,
but the balance is in Mary V's handwritin'. And I claim she's some poet!
Quit cussin' and listen, Johnny; yo' all never heard this 'un, and I'll
gamble on it:

"'_Through the clouds we'll float in my airplane boat--_' That, there's
by Skyrider. And here Mary V finishes it up:

"'For Venus I am truly sorry!
All the stars you sight, you witless wight,
You'll see when you and Venus light!
But then--I'm sure that I should worry!'"

"I don't believe she ever wrote that!" Johnny struggled up to declare
passionately. "You give that here, Bud Norris. Worry--sorry--they don't
even rhyme!"

"Aw, ferget that stuff! Witless wight's all right, ain't it? I claim Mary
V's some poetry writer. Don't you go actin' up jealous. She ain't got the
jingle, mebby, but she shore is there with the big idee."

"'_Drink the dipper dry_'--that shore does hit me where I live!" cried
little Curley. "Did you make it up outa yore own head, Johnny?"

"Naw. I made it up out of a spellin' book!" Johnny, being outnumbered
five to one, decided to treat the whole matter with lofty unconcern.
"Hand it over, Bud."

Bud did not want to hand it over. He had just discovered that he could
sing it, which he proceeded to do to the tune of "Auld Lang Syne" and the
full capacity of his lungs. Bill and Aleck surged up to look over his
shoulder and join their efforts to his, and the half dozen horses held
captive in that corral stampeded to a far corner and huddled there,
shrinking at the uproar.

"_And kiss 'er snow-white ha-a-and, and kiss 'er snow-white ha-and_,"
howled the quartet inharmoniously, at least two of them off key; for Tex
Martin had joined the concert and was performing with a bull bellow that
could be heard across a section. Then Bud began suddenly to improvise,
and his voice rose valiantly that his words might carry their meaning to
the ears of Johnny Jewel, who had stalked back across the corral and was
striving now to catch the horse he had let go, while his one champion,
little Curley, shooed the animal into a corner for him.

"_It would be grand to kiss her hand, her snow-white hand, i