Classic Poem

They would have fought again,
Had not the Major stepped between the men
And talked the crisis by. And when 'twas past,
Talbeau, intent to end the strife at last,
Somehow persuaded Fink to make amends,
And, as a proof that henceforth they were friends,
Proposed the shooting of the whisky cup.
" Shure, b'y, " said Mike, " we'll toss a copper up
And if 'tis heads I'll thry me cunning first.
As fer me joke, the tongue of me is cursed
Wid double j'ints — so let it be forgot! "
And so it was agreed.

They cleared a spot
And flipped a coin that tinkled as it fell.
A tiny sound — yet, like a midnight bell
That sets wild faces pressing at the pane,
Talbeau would often hear that coin again,
In vivid dreams, to waken terrified.
'Twas heads.

And now the tall man stepped aside
And, beckoning Talbeau, he whispered: " Son,
If anything should happen, keep my gun
For old time's sake. And when the Major pays
In old St. Louis, drink to better days
When friends were friends, with what he's owing me. "
Whereat the little man laughed merrily
And said: " Old Horse, you're off your feed today;
But if you've sworn an oath to blow your pay,
I guess the three of us can make it good!
Mike couldn't miss a target if he would. "
" Well, maybe so, " said Carpenter, and smiled.

A windless noon was brooding on the wild
And in the clearing, eager for the show,
The waiting trappers chatted. Now Talbeau
Stepped off the range. The tall man took his place,
The grin of some droll humor was on his face;
And when his friend was reaching for his head
To set the brimming cup thereon, he said:
" You won't forget I gave my gun to you
And all my blankets and my fixin's too? "
The small man laughed and, turning round, he cried:
" We're ready, Mike! "

A murmur ran and died
Along the double line of eager men.
Fink raised his gun, but set it down again
And blew a breath and said: " I'm gittin' dhry
So howld yer noddle shtiddy, Bill, me b'y,
And don't ye shpill me whisky! " Cedar-straight
The tall man stood, the calm of brooding Fate
About him. Aye, and often to the end
Talbeau would see that vision of his friend —
A man-flower springing from the fresh green sod,
While, round about, the bushes burned with God
And mating peewees fluted in the brush.

They heard a gun lock clicking in the hush.
They saw Fink sighting — heard the rifle crack,
And saw beneath the spreading powder rack
The tall man pitching forward.

Echoes fled
Like voices in a panic. Then Mike said:
" Bejasus, and ye've shpilled me whisky, Bill! "

A catbird screamed. The crowd stood very still
As though bewitched.

" And can't ye hear? " bawled Fink;
" I say, I'm dhry — and now ye've shpilled me drink! "
He stopped to blow the gasses from his gun.

And now men saw Talbeau. They saw him run
And stoop to peer upon the prostrate man
Where now the mingling blood and whisky ran
From oozing forehead and the tilted cup.
And in the hush a sobbing cry grew up:
" My God! You've killed him, Mike! "

Then growing loud,
A wind of horror blew among the crowd
And set it swirling round about the dead.
And over all there roared a voice that said:
" I niver mint to do it, b'ys, I swear!
The divil's in me gun! " Men turned to stare
Wild-eyed upon the center of that sound,
And saw Fink dash his rifle to the ground,
As 'twere the hated body of his wrong.

Once more arose that wailing, like a song,
Of one who called and called upon his friend.