XXVI.

Tearin' along the indigo sky Wus a drove of clouds, snarl'd an' black; Scuddin' along to'ards the risin' moon, Like the sweep of a darn'd hungry pack Of preairie wolves to'ard a bufferler, The heft of the herd, left out of sight; I dror'd my breath right hard, fur I know'd We wus in fur a'tarnal run thet night.