NOTICE TO QUIT. 



MYRA EMMONS. 



The southeast corner of New Mexico 

 is part of the great American 

 desert de facto. Burning sands, 

 bristling cacti and ragged clumps of 

 dwarfed mesquite stretch away in every 

 direction, and furnish a limitless home 

 for the prairie dog, the tarantula and rat- 

 tle-snake. Along the water courses there 

 are hints of vegetation, and fifteen or 

 twenty years ago the valleys yielded a 

 heavy growth of bunch grass. This was 

 long since eaten off and trampled out 

 by the innumerable herds that formed 

 the pride and wealth of many a " Cattle 

 King." To-day the barren wastes will 

 scarcely support the jack rabbits ; and 

 the cattle industry, having overreached 

 itself in its greed for gain, has been 

 practically forced to leave the country. 

 In the days when it flourished along 

 the valley of the Rio Pecos, an old 

 stone ranch house, near the river bank, 

 was the home of a prominent cattle- 

 man, whom we will call Mr. Yeddo, be- 

 cause that was not his name. He and 

 his cowboys were nearly always on the 

 best of terms. The only point on which 

 he had difficulty in maintaining his 

 authority, was that the boys would not 

 bury the Mexicans they killed. 



The unwritten law of that genial land 

 made it certain death for a Mexican to 

 be caught stealing cattle. No thorough- 



bred cowboy would hesitate an instant 

 to shoot a Mexican when caught in 

 this alluring pastime ; and the aver- 

 age cowboy was not rigid as to the 

 proofs. He would often shoot on 

 suspicion. To this practice Mr. Yeddo 

 had no objection. He only insisted 

 that the dead bodies should be buried. 

 But this was too much like work. Be- 

 sides, an occasional dead Mexican left 

 on the range, gave forth a delicate yet 

 penetrating hint to live intruders that 

 safety lay in absence. 



One day three Mexicans were killed, 

 and their bodies lay around awhile 

 spoiling in the hot sun. After re- 

 peated urgings on the part of Mr. 

 Yeddo, the boys finally set off, with a 

 good-natured whoop and yell, to per- 

 form the interment. 



Several days later Mr. Yeddo, in rid- 

 ing over the range, came upon the 

 graves. The Mexicans had been buried, 

 sure enough ; but the jolly cowboys, 

 determined to use the bodies in some 

 way as a warning to evil-doers, had left 

 the arms of each corpse sticking out. 

 Three pairs of gruesome hands point- 

 ing up at the sky gave warning to 

 Mexican cattle thieves, and proof to 

 the world that the hardened and woolly 

 cowboy may possess the ghastly imagina- 

 tion of a Poe. 



MY FIANCEE. 



Philip C. Reilly. 



She smiles ; the cruel world seems bright, 



The sun is ever shining ; 

 Each bird has anthems new to me, 



Each cloud a silver lining. 



She weeps ; the world is cold and drear 

 And darkness reigns supreme ; 



The sun-light falls on others but 

 On me it casts no beam. 



She laughs ; the very heavens seem 



Transported here below ; 

 And winter seems like gentle spring, 



The earth devoid of snow. 



She sings ; my very heart stands still ; 



Perhaps you've heard her sing? 

 /softly steal a while away — 



I can't stand everthing. 



271 



