My horse turned his head from the place 



where he fed, 

 He heard but a hated beast. 



But he sang me a song of the West, 

 the West, etc. 



"A Sioux in his tepee away in the night 

 Drummed a chant of the 'Buffalo days' 



Till the men with me swore at the savage 



uproar 

 And cursed him, his drum and his race. 



But he sang me a song of the West, 

 the West, etc. 



"The moon in the morn was still in the sky 

 But the mountains in day were aglow, 



And the girl by my side, the blue-eyed, my 



bride, 

 Sang, but not of the long ago. 



"She sang me a song of the West, the West, 

 Swept sorrow and worry away; 



She stirred up my heart with her tuneful 



art 

 And her song of the strong to-day." 



Perhaps for a moment we may 

 have forgotten the "fantail," but the 

 Cap'n had not. His whole attitude 

 stiffened in attention and so did ours. 

 I could not hear nor see a thing new, 

 but Nimrod evidently did. His breath 

 was coming fast and my heart began 

 to thump to suffocation. It must be 



