Crossing over Lodge Pole creek,

Threading Colorado's stretches--

Sandy deserts wild and bleak--

Where the sun wars on the living,

Struggling 'neath his blinding light,

Then resigns his work of ravage

To the chilling frosts of night;

Where the bleaching bones of horses

Here and there bestrew the plains,

Telling many a ghastly story

Of misguided settlers' trains--

Where the early frontier ranger

Marked the first trail to Cheyenne,

Billy, following its wand'rings,

Found the missing mark again.

26  

Then the labored pace grew faster

As he passed each camping place,

Marking well the lessening distance

In the long-contested race.

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