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Updated: June 26, 2025
Bein' a pote myself, it ain't necessary." "A a poet! Really?" "Really and truly, and carry one and add five. I've roped a lot of po'try in my time, Miss. Say, are we campin' on your land?" "No. This is government land, from here to our line up above the Moonstone Rancho." "The Moonstone Rancho?" queried Overland Red, breaking a twig and feeding the fire. "Yes. It's named after the cañon.
Yo' all could have mo' time to write po'try an' study up on flyin' machines, down there. And Pete, he's aimin' to quit the first. He don't like it down there." Johnny dropped the letters back into his suitcase and sat down on the side of his bed to smoke. His was not the nature to hold a grudge, and Tex seemed to be friendly.
"Let's go fishin' I hate speeches," the Toyman replied. "I made a silly, a fool of myself, didn't I?" said Jehosophat. "Not by a long sight," the Toyman replied. "You see, sonny," he went on to explain, very soberly, "that's an old piece of yours and out of date. Now they're making new arrangements and editions of books and po'try all the time. They just change with the times.
The Senator smiled a trifle apologetically. "There's more of it. But po'try ain't just in my line. Once in a while I bust loose on po'try that is, my kind of po'try. And I want to say that we sure clattered down from the Butte and the Blue in the old days, with our rein chains jinglin', thinkin' some of us that Arizona was ours to fare-ye-well.
He extended his hand to him gravely. "Shake! Ef another proof was wantin', Mr. Ford, of that bein' my wife's letter," he said, "that high-toned style of yours would settle it. For, ef thar was one thing she DID like, it was that sort of po'try. And one reason why her and me didn't get on, and why I skedaddled, was because it wasn't in my line.
And Sundown paused, gazing ceilingward, that the moral might seep through. "You're ridin' right to home!" laughed the cow-boy. "You just light down and we'll trail over to Chola Charley's and prospect a tub of frijoles. The dinner-bell when you are broke is plumb correct. Got any more of that po'try broke to ride gentle?" "Uhuh. Say, how far is it to the next town?" "Comin' or goin'?" "Goin'."
Next to cookin' and writin' po'try, walkin' is me long suit." When a Westerner, a native-born son of the outlands, likes a man, he likes him. That is all there is to it. His horses, blankets, money, provender, and even his saddle are at his friend's disposal. If the friend prove worthy, and your Westerner is shrewd, a lifelong friendship is the result.
"Well," he replied, "you settle down on that farm of yours as I settled on mine, and I 'll tell you what answer you 'll get to them questions. There ain't no po'try about farmin'. God did n't intend there should be as I see it." "Now, that is n't the way I see it at all. This is God's earth, and there could n't be a better one." "Of course there could n't, but there was one once." "When?"
"Maybe I won't come back at all," said Kern, improvising a barn dance about the long office. "Maybe I'll run off with a count and go to Europe on a steamer like, and have mand'lins played under my winder by moonlight, and sit at a gool' writin'-desk all day and make up po'try." "That would be rather hard on the count, wouldn't it?" said Mr.
Susan was too familiar with Clematis traditions not to know that the books on the center-table were seldom of a sort one would care to open, but as she lifted the nearest volume and saw that it was a collections of poems, she felt a comforting certainty that luck was with her. "You're a great admirer of po'try, ain't you, Mr. Dale? I've always understood so." With an effort Joel roused himself.
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