A GAMELESS WEST. 



W. T. HORNADAY. 

 ILLUSTRATIONS BV CAPT. CHAS. B. HUDSON. 



In spite of all the boomin', it will never seem the same ; 

 And the devil take a country that hasn't any game." 



Reflections of Cheyenne Jim. 



"THE SHIVERING HORSEMAN LOWER 

 BENDS HIS HEAD AND HURRIES ON." 



Cold sweeps the wind across the bleak divides. 

 And whistles through the sage-brush in the draws. 

 Above the sea of hills the clouds fly low, 

 And on their leaden wings bear sleet and snow. 

 The horseman shrinks and shivers as he rides, 

 But dares not pause. 



Behold, how vast an ocean rolls away, 

 Toward every point from this high vantage ground. 

 Here, coulees drear ; and yender, bad lands vast, 

 Hacked, gouged and seamed by storms of ages past 

 Iron-sided buttes, ravines of barren clay, 

 And gLom profound. 



THE MULE DEER HERDS HAVE FLED 

 BEFORE THE GUN." 



No living thing in sight, no creature near 

 To break the desolation of the scene. 

 The mule deer herds have fled before the gun 

 The antelope were slaughtered, one by one. 

 The last lone wolf lies crouched in hungry fear 

 In yon ravine. 



IRON-SIDED BUTTES, RAVINES OF BAR- 

 REN CLAY. AND GLOOM PROFOUND." 



44^ 



