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Frontier Ballads
Then up rose Miss Edgar in anger and haste And grasped the revolver that hung at her waist; She walked to the wagon which nearest her lay, She wrenched at the back-flap and tore it away, Then aiming her gun at the fellow beneath She held it point-blank to his chattering teeth.
"Go back to your duty," she cried, "with the men! Go back, or you'll never see sunrise again! Do you think, because only the women are here, You can skulk behind skirts with your dastardly fear? Get out on the ground. Take your gun. About, face! And don't look around till you're back in your place!"
Well, he minded; what's more, all the others did, too. That girl cleared the camp of the whole scurvy crew, For a pistol-point, hovering under his nose, Was an argument none of them cared to oppose. Yet so modest she was that she colored with shame When the boys on the line began cheering her name!
Well, that's all; just an echo of old border strife
When the sights on your gun were the guide-posts of life.
Harsh times breed strong souls, by eternal decree,
Who can breast them and win—but it's always struck me
That the Lord did an extra good job when He made
Miss Edgar, the girl of the Yankton stockade. |
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