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She rushed; the cattle saw the blanket, they charged with maddened fear. /
And little Varro, seeing the danger, turned her pony a pace
And leaning in the saddle, tied the blanket in its place.
In leaning, she lost her balance and fell in front of
that wild tide. Utah's voice controlled the round-up. " Lay still,
little Varro," he cried. His only hope was to raise her, to catch her at full
speed, And oft-times he had been known to catch the trail
rope off his steed.
His pony reached the maiden with a firm and steady
bound; Utah swung out from the saddle to catch her from
the ground. He swung out from the saddle, I thought her safe
from harm, As he swung in his saddle to raise her in his arm.
But the cinches of his saddle had not been felt before, And his back cinch snapt asunder and he fell by the
side of Varro. He picked up the blanket and swung it over his head And started across the prairie; "Lay still, little
Varro," he said.