XXVIII.

On the level lot;--I tell ye, pard, I know'd when it touch'd the first black hide, Me an' the mustang would hev a show Fur a breezy bit of an' evenin' ride! One! it flow'd over a homely pine Thet riz from a cranny, lean an' lank, A cleft of the mountain;--reckinin' two, It slapp'd onto an' old steer's heavin' flank,