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
