XLIII.

"No," sez he, with his small, prickin' ears, Plain es a human could speak; an' me-- I turn'd my head tew glimpse ef I could, Who might the chap with the lariat be. Wal, Pard, I weaken'd--ye bet yer life! Thar wasn't a human in sight around, But right in front of me come the beat Of a hoss's hoofs on the tremblin' ground--