I could still a-hear the shootin'

After we was miles away.

I supposed we'd see the girl come

Ridin' up to us 'fore long,

That is--I was jest a-thinkin'--

If there wasn't somethin' wrong.

But, in spite of all our lookin',

Sometimes slackin' up our gait,

Always thinkin' we should see her

Every time we'd stop and wait.

We have never seen her, Billy,

And I own I'm balked a bit,

Fur I know that she's a critter

Made of nothin' else but grit.

33  

"I wish I could go and find her,

But 'twould be too hot for me;

Long before I got back that fur

I'd be strung up to a tree.

So I've been a kind o' thinkin',

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