Page:Anthology of Magazine Verse (1921).djvu/96

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He hung a breathless second in the sun,
The staring road before him; then like one
Who stakes his all, and has a gamester's heart,
His laughter flashed.
He lunged.
I gave a start.
God, what a man!
The massive shoulders hunched, and, as he ran,
With head held low, and splendid length of limb,
I almost felt the beat
Of passionate life that surged in him
And winged his spurning feet.

And then my eyes went dim:
The marshal's gun was out.
I saw the grim,
Short barrel, and his face
Aflame with the excitement of the chase.
He was an honest sportsman, as they go;
He never shot a doe,
Or spotted fawn,
Or partridge on the ground.
And as for Joe—
He'd wait until he had a yard to go,
Then, if he missed, he'd laugh and call it square.
My gaze lept to the corner, waited there.
And now an arm would reach it, I saw hope flare
Across the runner's face.

Then, like a pang
In my own heart,
The pistol rang.

The form I watched soared forward,
Swung the curve. "By God, you've missed."
The marshal shook his head.
No, there he lay, face downward in the road.
"I reckon he was dead
Before he hit the ground,"

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