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"Captain K th, Captain K th, Keep your tongue 'twixt your teeth, Lest bed-chamber tricks you betray; And, if teeth you want more, Why, my bold Commodore, You may borrow of Lord G ll y, Captain K th, You may borrow of Lord G ll y." "Joe M wb y, Joe M wb y, Your throat sure must raw be, In striving to make yourself heard; But it pleased not the pigs.
All the world was an oven, and after three days we gave up the chase, and leaving Mountain Billy panting triumphantly somewhere in his lair, trailed back to the ranch house with drooping heads and fifteen rattle-snakes' tails. Oh, no, the hunt was not a failure for Mountain Billy. Till the time of the "WB" round-up all cows looked alike to me.
The cowboys, who had been away for several days gathering in the stragglers that had wandered into the wild recesses of those uncanny Bad Land hills, assembled in full force for the evening meal, and announced, between mouthfuls, that the morrow was to be branding day for the several outfits, about two thousand head of cattle in all, the 'WB' included, which were rounded up on the Big Flat two miles distant from the ranch.
Rough riding and adventures of the Calamity Jane order tempted me no more. His face bore a broad grin for the first time that day, from what emotions caused I have never been able to determine. I, of course, said nothing. Then, oh, the joy of that round up dinner! The 'WB' outfit had a meal tent, a mess wagon, and a cook for the men, and a rope corral, food and water for the horses.
I heard the 'WB' boss say, "Billy, to the left flank. Van, them blamed heifers," as he flew past them. Van dashed forward, I gave my black mare a cut with the quirt and followed. Van's face, as he turned around to remonstrate, was a study of surprise, distress, and disgust, for I was undoubtedly breaking rules. "Don't bother about me," I called as airily as possible, as I shot past him.
"Will you take me to the round-up to-morrow?" I asked of the 'WB' boss. "Well, I could have a team hitched up, and Bob could drive you to the Black Nob Hill, where you can get a good view," was the tolerant reply. Bob had wrenched his foot the day before, when roping a steer, and was therefore incapacitated for anything but 'woman's work' 'a soft job.
Nor the Westminster Whigs, That your Knighthood should utter one word, Joe M wb y, That your Knighthood should utter one word." "M ntm res, M ntm res, Whom nobody for is, And for whom we none of us care; From Dublin you came It had much been the same If your Lordship had staid where you were, M ntm res, If your Lordship had staid where you were."
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