shack;
Till the valley and its timber
Vanished, where the rolling sward
Of the westward-sweeping prairie
Marks the trail 'cross Mingo's ford.

7

Here for hours he searched the crossing
And the wheel-ruts leading on
To the north, a full day's journey,
But the guiding mark was gone.
Not a vestige here remaining
Of the sign that could be told,
For old Mac had traveled swiftly
And the trail was mixed and old.
Two whole days Bill searched and waited,
Hoping for some other clew,
Weighing questions of direction,
Undecided what to do.
Till, one night, while cooking supper
By the camp-fire's genial glow,
He was startled by a stranger's
Sudden presence and "Hello!"

8

Tall of stature, dark of visage,
By the wind well dried and tanned,
Clad in "shaps" and spurs that jingled,
With a bull whip in his hand.
Close behind him in the shadows,
Eyes aglow with red and green,
Stood a blazed-face Texas pony,
Ewe-necked, cat-hammed, wild, and mean.
"Hello, stranger! glad to see you,
Got my cattle fixed for night;
Just got through, and riding round 'em,
'Cross the bluff, I saw your light.
No, thanks, pardner, had my supper;
Seems your fire is short o' wood;
I just thought I'd see who's camped here--
Gee! that bacon does smell good!"

9

When the frugal meal was over,
When the pipes were filled and lit,
And the cowboy ceased his stories
Weak in moral, rank in wit,
Billy plied him long with questions,
Wording each with thought and care,
Lest his zeal for information
Should reveal his mission there.
"Tell me who you've seen go by here,
Just within the last few days;
What they had for teams and outfits;
How the country round here lays.
Have you seen a prairie schooner--
Old style freighter--pass this way?
Both wheel hosses white-nosed sorrels,
Lead team of a dun and gray?"

[Illustration: "Loaded up their prairie schooner,
And vamoosed the ranch 'fore light."]

[Illustration: "He was startled by a stranger's
Sudden presence and 'Hello!'"]

10

"I remember some such outfit,
If I've got your idee right.
Think they camped a mile below here
Week ago last Thursday night.
Pulled in sometime 'long 'bout sundown,
Turned their stock in yonder draw,
But an oldish sort of fellow
Was the only one I saw;
Rode a speckled chestnut pony
With a white star in his face;
Asked some questions 'bout the country,
'Bout the proper crossing-place.
Pulle