The Indian Police.
Arthur Chapman. Out Where the West Begins, 1917.
‘Tis good for a man to feel!
Give us the unfenced spaces—
Give us the roweled heel!
The song we would hear in all kinds of weather
Is the endless creaking of saddle leather.
Give us a camp in the thicket,
Far from the traveled ways;
Give us a horse to picket
While the great star sentries blaze;
We’ll be off on the track of him we are trailing
Ere the moon in yon cloud veil has started paling.
Give us a quest of peril—
Danger’s the choicest spice!
O’er plains that are wild and sterile
We hasten to pay the price!
And he who would rustle the Indian’s cattle
Must turn ere his getaway—turn to do battle!