BARB-WIRE
BILL
At
dawn of day the white land lay all gruesome
like
and grim,
When
Bill McGee he says to me: "We've got to do it
Jim.
"We've
got to make Fort Laird quick. I know the
rivers
bad,
"But
oh the little woman's sick .... why! don't
you
savvy lad?"
And
me! Well, yes, I must confess it wasn't hard to
see
Their
little family group of two would soon be one of
three
And
so I answered, careless-like: "Why, Bill! you don't
suppose
"I'm
scared of that there 'babbling brook'? Whatever
you
say --- goes."
A
real live man was barb-wire Bill, with insides copper-
lined;
For
"barb-wire" was the brand of "hooch" to which
he
most inclined.
They
knew him far; his igloos are on Kittiegazuit
strand
They
knew him well, the tribes who dwell within the
Barren
Land.
From
Koyokuk to Kuskoquim his fame was
everywhere;
And
he did love, all life above, that little Julie
Claire,
The
lithe, white slave-girl he had bought for seven
hundred
skins'
And
taken to his wickiup to make his moccasins.
We
crawled down to the river bank and feeble folk
were
we,
That
Julie Claire from God knows where, and Barb-wire
Bill
and me.
From
shore to shore we heard the roar the heaving
ice-floes
make,
And
loud we laughed, and launched our raft and
followed
in their wake.
The
river swept and seethed and leapt, and caught us
in
it's stride;
And
on we hurled amid a world that crashed on every
side.
With
sullen din the banks caved in; the shore-ice lanced
the
stream;
The
naked floes like spooks arose, all jiggling and agleam.
Black
anchor-ice of strange device shot upward from its
bed,
As
night and day we cleft our way, and arrow like we sped.
But
"Faster still!" cried Barb-wire Bill, and looked the
live-long
day
In
dull despair at Julie Claire, as white like death she
lay.
And
sometimes he would seem to pray and sometimes
seem
to curse,
And
bent above, with eyes of love, yet ever she grew
worse.
And
as we plunged and leapt and lunged, her face was
plucked
with pain,
And
I could feel his nerves of steel a-quiver at the
strain.
And
in the night he griped me tight as I lay fast
asleep:
"The
river's kicking like a steer .... run out the
forward
sweep!
"that's
Hell-gate Canyon right ahead; I know of old
its
roar,
"And
.... I'll be damned! the ice is jammed!
We've
got to make the shore."
With
one wild leap I gripped the sweep. The night was
black
as sin.
The
float-ice crashed and ripped and smashed, and stunned
us
with its din.
And
near and near, and clear and clear I heard the
canyon
boom;
And
swift and strong we swept along to meet our awful
doom.
And
as with dread I glimpsed ahead the death that waited
there,
My
only thought was of the girl, the little Julie
Claire;
And
so, like demon mad with fear, I panted at the
oar,
And
foot by foot, and inch by inch, we worked the raft
ashore.
The
bank was staked with grinding ice, and as we scraped
and
crashed,
I
only knew one thing to do, and through my mind it
flashed:
Yet
while I groped to find the rope, I heard Bill's savage
cry:
"That's
my job lad! It's me that jumps. Ill snub
this
raft of die!"
I
saw him leap, I saw him creep, I saw him gain the
land;
I
saw him crawl, I saw him fall, then run with rope in
hand.
And
then the darkness gulped him up, and down we
dashed
once more,
And
nearer, nearer drew the jam, and thunder-like its
roar.
Oh
God! all's lost .... from Julie Claire there
came
a wail of pain,
And
then --- the rope grew sudden taught, and quivered at
the
strain;
It
slacked and slipped, it whined and gripped, and oh, I
held
my breath!
And
there we hung and there we swung right in the
jaws
of death.
A
little strand of hempen rope, and how I watched it
there,
With
all around a hell of sound, and darkness and
despair;
A
little strand of hempen rope, I watched it all
alone,
And
somewhere in the dark behind, I heard a woman
moan;
And
somewhere in the dark ahead I heard a man cry
out,
Then
silence, silence fell, and mocked my hollow
shout.
And
yet once more from out the shore I heard that cry
of
pain,
A
moan of mortal agony, then all was still
again.
Than
night was hell with all the frills, and when the
dawn
broke dim,
I
saw the lean and level land, but never a sign of
him.
I
saw the flat and frozen shore of hideous
device,
I
saw a long drawn strand of rope that vanished through
the
ice.
And
on that treeless, rockless shore I found my partner
---
dead.
No
place there was to snub the raft, so --- he had served
instead;
And
with the rope lashed round his waste, in last
defiant
fight,
He'd
thrown himself beneath the ice, that closed and
gripped
him tight;
And
there he'd held us back from death, as fast in death
he
lay....
Say,
boys! I'm not the pious brand, but --- I just tried
to
pray.
And
then I looked to Julie Claire, and sore abashed
was
I,
For
from the robes that covered her, I --- heard --- a ---
baby
--- cry ....
Thus
Love conqueror of death, and life for life was
given;
And
though no saint on earth, d'ye think --- Bill's squared
himself
with heaven?
ROBERT W. SERVICE
