1897. 



THE AMERICAN BEE KEEPER. 



341 



AUTUMN ON WIND RIVER. 



The black pines stand high up the hills, 

 The white snow sifts their columns deep, 



While through the canyon's riven cleft 

 From there beyond the rose clouds sweep. 



Berene above their paling shapes 

 One star hath wakened in the sky, 



And here in the gray world below 

 Over the sage the wind blows by. 



Rides through the cottonwoods' ghost ranks 



And hums aloft a sturdy tune 

 Among the river's tawny bluffs. 



Untenanted as is the moon. 



Tar 'neath the htige invading dusk 

 Comes silence awful throtigh the plain. 



But yonder horseman's heart is gay, 

 And he goes singing, might and main. 

 —Owen Wisier in Harper's Magazine. 



BILL'S LITTLE GAL. 



Being a man witli a wide circle of 

 acquaintances, I purposely avoid ac- 

 Ciiracy as to dates and localities. It is 

 not even necessary to explain how I be- 

 came associated with General Surly in 

 the management of a big cattle ranch. 

 He was one of the southern gentlemen 

 whose earthly possessions were pretty 

 well wiped out by the war, but he did 

 not stop to chide fate nor wait for some- 

 thing to turn up. He converted his 

 available assets into cash and made the 

 investment in which I was eventually 

 interested. 



Of course the general had a beautiful 

 daughter, or I would have nothing 

 worth the telling. I avoid going into 

 rhapsodies by simply saying that she 

 grew to be a strong, stately and grace- 

 ful woman whose physical attractions 

 were matm-ed in the outdoor world, 

 whose education and accomplishments 

 were those that few women have the 

 mental grasp to acquire and whose 

 heart was as tender as when her little 

 girlish voice was raised in angry protest 

 against placing the cruel brand upon 

 some bleating maverick. I'll not betray 

 by how many years I was her senior, 

 but I fell in love with her the first time 

 I saw her, a little vision of beauty 

 astride a bmTO, riding wildly and with- 

 out fear, swinging a miniature lasso, 

 her black eyes aglow and her raven hair 

 streaming in waves that even the sweep- 

 ing wind of the prairie did not 



straigliten. 



Though she was a gentle little mis- 

 tress, every one about the place was her 

 slave. Even stoical old Bud Whipley, 

 who sliould have lost every vestige of 

 romance in his experience as trapper, 

 scout, Indian fighter and cattle man, 

 had secretly adopted the little witch in 

 his heart, which had come warm and 

 true through all these experiences. Like 

 many a man who led the rough life of 

 the frontier, he idealized a good wom- 

 an, and the adoration bestowed by him 

 upon Kitty feurly was as devoid of our 

 earthly conception of love as though 

 she had been an angel. 



It was after she had been east to 

 school and retm-ned to us with all her 

 natural beauty enhanced by the refining 

 influences and opportimities she had en- 

 joyed that old Bud came to me. "I 

 don't like the way that coyote from the 

 Robelda ranch is a-tryinto git- inter the 

 roimd up over here, ' ' he began. ' ' Jim 

 Bumper's no sorter feller fiu* sich a 

 woman as our Kitty. I never heerd yet 

 where he wij-ed out a feller critter what 

 he didn't take unbeknownst or to a dis- 

 advantage. He's made big money, but 

 he ain't sqi:are, an he'd make it hell on 

 airth fmravt'oman. He'smakin a strong 

 play fur to git on the good side of the 

 giueral, an I ve 'bout made up my mind 

 that I orter to tend to slippin Jim's 

 cinch. Takin chances with critters like 

 him is the same as takin chances with 

 rattlesnakes. Jist say the word, an I'll 

 make Jim Bumper git out o' hei'e or 

 fight, an he won't fight me fur certain 

 reasons as is private till I git ready to 

 turn loose. I reckon he's feelin kinder 

 panicky already, fm^ I give it out all an 

 singular to the boys over to the ranch 

 that oiu- Kitty warn't agoin to graze 

 her pritty face on no range 'ceptin our 

 o\ni an that any feller what tried rop- 

 in her wouldn' never know jist how it 

 happened he was disajip'inted. I don't 

 of 'en cut loose, but there hain't none 

 o' the boys is hankerin partickaler to be 

 round when I blow up. ' ' 



I could see that the veteran was in 

 deadly earnest, for his parchmentlike 

 face had an unwonted glow of color, 

 and in his deep set gray eyes there was 

 a glint as ominous as a death warrant. 



' ' See here. Bud, ' ' I said in a concil- 

 iatory tone. "There are some things 

 about this case that I understand better 



