They have lived and have tossed.
So much of the game will be gain,
Though the gold of the dice has been lost.
HERE THE TRAIL ENDS
So swifter, and darker, and colder
Than any we crossed on our long, long way.
Steady, Dan, steady. Ho, there, my dapple,
You first from the saddle shall slip and be free.
Now go, you are clear from command of a master;
Go wade in the grasses, go munch at the grain.
I love you, my faithful, but all is now over;
Ended the comradeship held 'twixt us twain.
I go to the river and the wide lands beyond it,
You go to the pasture, and death claims us all.
For here the trail ends!
Draw near with the broncos.
Slip the hitch, loose the cinches,
Slide the saw-bucks away from each worn, weary back.
We are done with the axe, the camp, and the kettle;
Strike hand to each cayuse and send him away.
Let them go where the roses and grasses are growing,
To the meadows that slope to the warm western sea.
No more shall they serve us; no more shall they suffer
The sting of the lash, the heat of the day.
Soon they will go to a winterless haven,
To the haven of beasts where none may enslave.
For here the trail ends.
Never again shall the far-shining mountains allure us,
No more shall the icy mad torrents appall.
Fold up the sling ropes, coil down the cinches,
Cache the saddles, and put the brown bridles away.
Not one of the roses of Navajo silver,
Not even a spur shall we save from the rust.
Put away the worn tent-cloth, let the red people have it;
We are done with all shelter, we are done with the gun.
Not so much as a pine branch, not even a willow
Shall swing in the air 'twixt us and our God.
Naked and lone we cross the wide ferry,
Bare to the cold, the dark and the rain.
For here the trail ends.
I wait the last boat, the slow silent one.
We each go alone—no man with another,
Each into the gloom of the swift black flood—
Boys, it is hard, but here we must scatter;
The gray boatman waits, and I—I go first.
All is dark over there where the dim boat is rocking—
But that is no matter! No man need to fear;
For clearly we're told the powers that lead us
Shall govern the game to the end of the day.
Good-by—here the trail ends!
WORKS BY
GILBERT PARKER
Pierre and his People.
When Valmond Came to Pontiac.
An Adventurer of the North.
A Romany of the Snows.
A Lover's Diary.
"He has the instinct of the thing: his narrative has distinction, his characters and incidents have the picturesque quality, and he has the sense for the scale of character-drawing demanded by romance, hitting the happy mean between lay figures and over-analyzed 'souls.'"
"Stories happily conceived and finely executed. There is strength and genius in Mr. Parker's style."
THE MACMILLAN COMPANY,
66 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK.
A NEW EDITION
ROSE OF DUTCHER'S COOLLY
BY
HAMLIN GARLAND
Cloth, 12mo. $1.50
"I cherish with a grateful sense of the high pleasure they have given me Mr. Garland's splendid achievements in objective fiction."
"Its realism is hearty, vivid, flesh and blood realism, which makes the book readable even to those who disapprove most conscientiously of many things in it."
"It is, beyond all manner of doubt, one of the most powerful novels of recent years. It has created a sensation."
"After the fashion of all rare vintages Mr. Garland seems to improve with age. No more evidence of this is needed than a perusal of his 'Rose of Dutcher's Coolly.' One might sum up the many excellences of the entire story by saying that it is not unworthy of any American writer."
66 Fifth Avenue
NEW YORK