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BANCROFT
LIBRARY
THE LIBRARY
OF
THE UNIVERSITY
OF CALIFORNIA


PAMPHLET BINDER
— - Syracuse, N. Y
—" Stockton, Calif
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Copyright pending — Rights reserved
Published by
LOS TRES VAGAMUNDOS
^Harson >|ity, Nevada.
19 2 3OME of the things I’ve written here
Hlndeel^Kve really seen,
While others are, as you caniytell,
Simply a wanderer’s dream.
If, in their reading, they bring you
A bit of pleasantness
You’ll have enjoyed my pleasure too
In writing down the mess.% s C( «7
« 43
./2*
13Vbout
=»=
'Ti’M ONLY just a Vagabond,
And mostly known as Ace,
And as I wander ’round and ’round
And move from place to place
I’ve gathered little of the^moss
That mostjfolks crave to hoard,
gBut kilfn all I’ve lived a life,
And seldom am I bored.
And, as I’ve drifted o’er this earth—-
Mixed • in' this Melting Pbt^^B
To gaze uponffis cleanliness
And taste its sin and rot,
life lived from birth to death—
- E’en Gospel-men,, teach shame^^H
Yes, watched proud kings descend to earth
And harpies rise to fame.
Sometimes I’ve thought I’d take a wife
And make myself a home,
But, when I think how all* my life
Bjj|e been content to roam,
I just postpone the wearin’ off
My breeches oh the seat,
And keep content and satisfied
In scratchin’ itchin’ feet.Z3o Vou!
=»=
3 SEE it now as I sit by the fire,
alone on the soundless waste—
Seems to burn through my soul aflame with desire,
and I see every mark on the face.
There’s a steely glint, or apparently squint
magnetic yet coldly glare
To those piercing black eyes—glitt’ring stars in the skies
in their quiet, defiant, bright stare.
A straight, slender nose parts pale cheeks of faint rose
’neath a forehead of soft ivory white,
While the eyes all the while stare defiance-beguile,
gleaming dull in black-brilliant lightTT
Red lips resting tight over teeth pearly white,
unrevealing of secrets within,
Soft curves all drawn straight will no vengeance relate
belying a slight, dimpled chin.
Just a touch of fair olive—of Italy there
and a child of France is shown too—
It’s the look of those eyes tell in living she’s wise,
and I look, and I try to
Look away, anywhere. Oh, that face! It is there—
eyes shut—but I always can see
On the wall, in it’s fram^-that picture of fame
of the girl who (fj* there watching me.ISlje %Awakenln$
B
STOQI^Jouf nearthe edge of town
To w^afcK'tHe sunsets glow,	. u
My usual pos,t;; about this time;	, A
To see the colors grow. d -	' d i
Oh, what a race of beauty seen '
Blazed out for mi^es around,};,	... -.niV
While purple’ shadows reaqhed to. bqat. • f:; W
And calm the picture down!-t;	!;r;A
But sharp, high peaks .and iqfags; up there,
Deep hid by blankets, y^hitje,	d i d;
Inf.bpjdLidefiance tQ the pfght > ;	V,
Just blazed in glitt’ring ljghtP);. ; j <	. 7;?
But, with last glowing; color gone—
Spent day about to rest-77 <r> •
Here came a stranger on a ¡mule. ,
Dirt-caked, all sweat and (just. . ^;
■■thought I’d linger ’till .he;passed j
And greet the time of day,
And so ifistood there for a wjiile. . Sr, iv: .7
Out on that sun-baked clay j ?r' ' r; 7 7:
And waited ’till he got abreast, d.- d.-: v 1:
Then piped up—“Howdy-do!”	, ,	;
“I saw you coming’ out a pace so waited-^
Who be you?” , :	• V r
He didn’t even touch the bit
To cause his mule to stop.
The minute Jack had heard me speak
He’d let his. ears go flop.
He hung his head and shut his eyes
And braced out all four feet
And stood there, just the same as if
He’d fallen, fast asleep.
Didn’t faze the rider though
As far as I could see;
He sat right in the saddle—so—
And squinted down at me.
“Say, Kid! Now if you sure don’t mind
A hangin’ ’round a spell,
Just stick right fast to my mule
While I go in and tell
This bunch that’s in this hotel hereThat I have just come down
To tell them it’s a no-good place—
Their stinkin’ tin-can town!
Then if you wish to go with me
I’ll take you and my steed
Back to a place that is a town—
Where you can see some speed.”
Gee! I was tickled half to death
To have a horse to sit,
An’ ’cause that horse was just a mule
I didn’t care a bit.
No sooner had my partner gone—
The doors shut on his back-M^y
When I grabbed hold the saddle horn
And climbed up on the jack.
And I was sittin’ nice and still
When BANG! A six-gun bust^s
An’ my mule jumped an’ me he dumped
Right out into the dust.
I jumped right up and made a rush
The hotel to go in—
My partner must be in a muss
And my place was with him.
But, as I pushed aside the doors
To get right in the fight
Somebody grabbed me by the wrist,
And, gosh! he held me tight.
He raisefflme right up off the floor
And shook me like a pup
And then I heard my old man say,
“Gosh darn you. Kid, wake up!
I don’t mind your dreaming
About your fighting with the boys
But, darn your hide, you keep us up—
You make too darn much noise!”
Now ain’t it tough to be woke up
Just when to you it seemed,
You pretty near had won the fight—
To find it all a dream?Ol)£ Choosing of a Mleal
=w=
that I am weary,
Vli' g^rt say thaf^I feel sad,
And 3^ ’DauJCthree times every day
I find I ge^eal mad.
Now, ju^j why it should be that way
I partly Ircln ISxplain,
Formatin’ is the caus^ofWi,
and from it to abstain	,
I «Bid to be far greater ill,
and far much woissfej to bear,
AndKso I eat t|ggij9 timegljja dafje-
no master how T ®@ar.
I wander doWir, andlgauntJHjin,
and slowly pick a seat,	•
Aim then I woH^r^wlar and frown vV
’boyolj what to choose/to eat. :
B° needj|a0!ead	ofjtfare
or _ “i® cial for today”	,J ^
Because the list is never changed
or cooked a different way.
There’s beef ffld lamb, and veal and porkV-J
all roasted for your chmc@p&ip
Why, if I saw IffirnedJPeef down there
I think I’d lose my voice! *
Now, they have coffee, tea and milk .	. .
and water, too, to"
C<3m|d thjrai make choJSat e just as well,
or rabcoa,- do fflp %h
“Eat herM It iSrour specialty—7
Food cookeffmike^that at home!”
Most	that’amhe^^mson why
I’m, just as glad to roam,
often thought that I j|buld ^send
jPffjf) them a nice cook book,
And offl^he cover neatly pen,
“Oh please, just take a look.
If you should find it good to read
then try toj^ggk it too,
Affi you can try it out on me—
I’m calloused through and through—
Then, if by chance I do surviyg^
this moslKgnique ordeal,
Tw® surely end ¿iKpf rrying—
the chasing	meal.”Olje San 3ose "Xover -
JN THE shade of full grown palm trees,
With faint scent of native rose—
Where the thorn tree and the cactus
Lend a fear to naked toe§,—
There’s a place in Guatemala
Where snakes and reptiles thrive,
Where the fever and the swamps
Aid the gringoes there to hide.
Near the edge of Hrgin jungle,
Mostly hid by clinging vine,
Is Cantina de la Puma—
With its rum and cactus wine—
Where vaquero and banditti,
From the heat of tropic sun,
Waste their earnings or their stealings
For a drink of fiery rum.
I tied my horse before the door
And sauntered slowly in
To spend my meager plata
On Americano gin,
When a clattering of hoof outside,
A dust cloud and wild snort,
Told me a wild vaquero had
Brought -his horse up short.
Upon a red-haired mustang,'
In a saddle of green hide,
Sat a native, brown-skinned cowboy
Beneath sombrero wide,
With his spurs and leather leggings
And a rawhide lariat,
And belted safely to hisraide
His iron-sheathed machete.
He stopped his horse within the door
And called in native tongue,
“Oh please, my señorita,
I am here to love, so come.
I have ridden thrdflkh the forest,
Long e’er the break of daflM
And, if you please, mi amor,
I would take you far away.“Oh, place about me loving arms
And give me love with fire,
For look! the flame is in my eye—
|I? tells ofjjny desire.
Just place a foot in stirrup there
And give to me thy hand,
Tu eres, mi amor, and we
¿&ek the promised land.”
Quite far from such opinion,
ffln reolving^shdv^ea the maid,
And, in the native lingo, she
Told him she was afraid
7jf twitching ¿yjp and burning eye
And'crushing fingers^too—
“Ah, trur^Bjimior mi amigo,
I’m afraid of you.”
Impulsive anger rising
From the passionB|fury checked,
He swtfijSjd low from his sa^le
And gripped her by the neck.
He crushed her madly to him,
One arm about her waist.
She	reach for his machete
But missed, so struck his face.
Wild babblings ofJPspigetti”
And wavings mad of arms,
Fast peering of unshod feet^.
In answer to alanm^pi
A snogt^and grunt, *asi$5pur was sunk,
A drifting cloud <^|dust^|B
Thns|ljlSds a tale—or buzzards wail—
Of Latin blood and lush
With all Jorunk and plata spent
And no excuse to stay
^dragged me on my horse again
AndMalmlvB-ode Sway
To the chattering of the jungle,
To live in native stink
Until, to drive the loco off,
Again return to drink.£2*TANDING on the deck of the steamer with
all my bags and baggage loaded on board, I
was bidding good-bye to my friends, Kvho had
aroused themselves to come and^niA me bon
voyage and farewell, for Twas leaving the land of
stench and bloom—I was drinking in a farewell
look at the tropic jungle, the native thatch, and
tacking in my memory coufflraess incidents of hard-
ships and pleasures.
I hated to leave it and yet, somehow I was
glad, very glad, and, as I said bood-bye to all my
friends, BiljSCerto*m an old brother T. T. T., gave
me a ImalPflB^written sheet. I putnMnto my
pocket and then when ^e 'were far out at Qa
and I could no longer sJS even a sky line o»hat
fascination,«enthralling Central America, I brought
it out and read it.
And as a memory to old friend Bill I think
of no place more appropriate for the product of
hiF‘M^^~ Jpen, than in thi^little book.
—ACE.Oòa!
eho
ADI® to thi^fl San Juan, city of dark-eyed gente,
Lan<^B8muchoKplor and dulco farmente,
nfefeiling donk^Jamd Be-all-abounding fleas,
Manan^grac^^^Kbo^ES bffl farewell to theeM|
Farewell,2^!|globi|^^HBH (mejoiÌ6Ì|i^H prison cells),
Ye narrai crooked' callaa^rall of assorted smells,
Ye dirrWMpj	ons. <:	filthy b®>eoa^g|^
Stinking stab!®, diriy^BSat-igs! and g^^McanaB&s.
g^^ner^ beggars ride on horseback,
^^^ke Spanish Cavaliers,
And VaBabond^ perambulate
LiSBlly gamboliers, I
paWhere the LavanderasB/ash your ropa
t./When thfi^K?SBMl inclinaci;**!
Arid the MozcHstrut about
With their shirt-taB out behind.
Good-bye, ye latin greasers—fomento servidor,
Que Vaya Bien, puelp my bcB is on the shore.
Departing, yfisafute you in yourfairtiness and rot;
I may com|Bgl:k to s^ydnSl but think I’ll rather not.
Steaming and streaming with tiling respiraticeli
Seething and bjHthing hurries perspiration.
Quiere d^^^adio||ffnOr ever, tierr^ftan calient^B
Bernal clime of ^Lciousfeum and fiery aguardBite.
H-WM. VIKRTON.Olje i&ursted bubble
=st=
JgOW STILL and quiet it has grown,
Wj Like reverence to soul’s flight,
No'stir, no sound, no flight of wing, •
No darkness, yet like night.
I feel like something smothers me^|a
A dull and numbing ache;
I have? no wish *$5*|j|hake it off,
No fear that it will break..
I’m allialone fflith fond hopes flown,
But thOghOS^tnder, still
I’ve no desis0 to win Era owri^fltf
Existing without wil|^H
Kie sky; and earth—they feel it too—
And star and sun and moon
Have drawn from sight behind a veil
Andr*l^ft a dull grey gloom,
Not hot or cold or wet or dry,
But still humidit^J
I listep^^Bpfcan hear no song.
I look yet cannot see.
A shattenjgqj^dream, a bubble bursU^B
Lost faith in plan and pride—
¡Breast adrift in' wandering
With nothing f^p| a guidejarf
I had a caj|Je once—all buil^H|
An island in the air.
And then I found to fit my gfjjeam
A girl and place here there.
And then I worked, andHaved, and fought,
To fill my chest with gold,
That I mightnmg||jimy Bream come true,
Just like a knight of old.
MslavedIw day; at night I saved,
And time sped swiftftl on,
Until, wTith chest most filled with gold,
Hthough my battle won.Off sped a message, swift;and sure,
Unto my maiden fair:
“Prepare the day for feast and song,
For soon I will be there.”
Then days they sped so slowly, all.
Each one seemed jpEke a year,
Until that wondrous letter came—
I thought my dream was here.
’Twas but a bursted bubble blown,
A cloud flown far away.
In it she said: “I’m sorry dear
A maiden still I’ll stay.”
And now I’m left to wander ’round,
To go, and come and go,
To follow stars and sun and moon,
Or find where storm winds blow.
I haven’t any dream of life.
I haven’t any aim.
And so I wander all the earth,
And wander back again.
I hear no sound, nor see no sight,
For tears they fill my eye.
And thus I wander to the end,
Existing, ’till I die.Olje (Bol5 (Ture
=^=
AN OLD miner sat on his step by the door.
With head in his hands he gazed at the floor.
He thought of the day, when just half l|| old,
He’d left his home town for the rush to the gold.
Only a kid when he bid them* good-bye.
He chided and laughed at the tear in their eye.
He promised them bushels and bags filled with gold,
And then he’d ©pme back th|re to live and grow old.
The hardships in crossing the Pioneer Trail
Were nothing comparedMp the thought that he’d failed.
And now here he was near thef^nd of his rope,
Ami all that he owned his one burro could tot^H
Through vMiifey and mountain he’d uffin like a mole,
And left them all pitted and marked with the hole
Of his pick and shovel, in his wild hunt for gold..
Now the jinx—it. was on him—and here he was old.
On calloused hands, o’er^wind-Bffamed^' •face,..
There ¡slowly dmpped soft tears* -
As vision blurp|3i of old, old friends
Not seen in forty years.
As the glowing, fading, gold^ sun
Was smking behind far peak
He dropped his^ liands and raised his head
As if he heard one speak.
The late, ling’ring shadows thru the wide openWmfr
Appeared there |l|ke writing on the baral hob-worn floor,
The old man was gmmb-ffluck to read there: “BEHOLD!”
Then the deepe^^^sttadows turned the letters to-BEjjDLD!
H^stood in amazement, then strairieffl hard to see,
And mumbling hejrokedt*:“^h$t in hell’s wrong -\fflh merT
H^^gpped in the^cabin the^wak^L’p to light,
But before he could light itLthdr^Jame to hi»sight,
Through the door of his cabifjLon the	darkening sky—
Was a gold colored arrow and then the word.BTRY!”
’Twas there but instant, aimed at the peak,
But, as quickly he’d seen it, right now he would seek!
L’ENVOI.
The^fcay on the desert, by the old^arsfgi Sink,
Wjren the pLgt glow|mSunset turns whiHsnow to pink,
There’||$C§pot that’s avoided, at le^Jj^STm told,
Where the sun-beached, whim bones are turned to pu-re gold.Zh Still Kunter

^ HUNTER friend comes here each year
Filled full of notions, new idea
Of how to hunt. And then beside,
What I should do in my position as his guide.
With bags and baggage, guns and clothes,
He comes to camp, and what he knows
On how to hunt, and fish, and flies,
Would filUa book, make Webster’s look like pocket-size
Now, when he gets here to my camp
What he’d like me to do is tramp
Up through the mountains and drive back
Coyote, bear, or some wolf pack.
He’d stay right here and mind the stove,
Until he heard the game I drove,
And then he’d shoot ’em thick and fast,
As they were running to go past.
He seemed to think ideas,were few—
He owned them all. He did! But you
Just bet a dollar and believe
That I’m a smilin’ up my sleeve!
I wouldn’t play no game like that
Unless I played it tit for tat.
I said: “You wait until tonight
For game ain’t running’ like they might.”
I said: “The lads from yonder hill
Are going out. and guess they will
Be glad to have us hunt with them
Night baggin’ coon, beyond the glen.”
He was, of coursé right glad to go.
He went, and, as no doubt you know,
Bdf gueSil needn’t tell the rest
Best left forOistj^^^a^to gues^r
Since then hqHbeen so quiet like
We make no mentionim that night.
But, when again he gets too bright,
I’ll take him to a badger fight.3 OFTEN: had; a grand idea that I would
like to draw a good description of a sunset
as seen across the desert.
No matter how I tried, I couldn’t seem to
bring, put the,-WOpderful display of colors there,^,
so I finally called on the help: of my; .partner,*’.
Don Lou Schellbach- 3ds if/, ; ■ ¡jNHHj
Don 'wrote out-a,.' description; as we: sat
there on = the 'edge of the'-desert one evening; ;
watching, the brush, andbart of /Nature."declare;:1
herself. From this piece Thave written Sunset:
My. partner !, he’^ an arti$t> .
An’ gosh hJDbW.fhe: can paint! .	.-.?!< ■-/	)
Why, he can picture anything. . t ,
Well,—those ,,hb can’t—jqst^ ain’t♦ r;. rf ?	\
And once;..when we : were; working—r:; ;
Had our bench out bn the ground'— : .-di >
I s^d have ,a good idea;	, f ; ,	; ?
But tguess i it’s got me down. .	( .
I’d like to write a sufisfet piece • ;■ f•<!
With color loud and bold,
But, gosh*sakes! I’m so color blind ■
I can’t tell blue^rom gold. ‘ •
So, yob ascribe a sunset, * . !i	1 H .,
And dggprate her fine,
Then I will try to juggle
And^et her up in rhyme.”	,
So here’s the little sunset ,, ,	.
That we have put in vers^jJjE|
Might be a whole lot better-^j|
Again, it might be worse!	^ -Sunset
=»=
WISING high up from the desert,
Far up from sand and heat,
Rear the rugged, snow-capped mountains
Celestial blue to meet.
Near the edge of this wide desert,
When the day is nearly done,
My temple is, and there I watch
The slowly setting sun.
I go there in the evening,
And I watch the fading light
Shafts on the distant mountains,
Snow-capped and dazzling white.
From zenith to horizon
The sky just seems to you
A wild gamut of color there,
From coba&to green-blue.
This color is not smeared across
As if with modern paint,
But more like with an air-brush
And blended soft and faint.
No broad brush strokes of painters
Could be so even-toned—
Technique and blending far beyond
Best skill of any known.
With the gathering night in fading light
The sun begins to sink
Where peaks and cliffs, deep hid in drift
Are blazed and spread in pink.
And then, within wide crevasses,
The shadows there are seen—
A wondrous sight, more wonderful
When colored so, in green.
Then lower on the mountain sideThere comes into your view
The lower side, below the snow,
The sunset’s colored blue.
The red of manzanita,
And the green of chaparral—
Such rioting of color scheme
I can’t begin to tell!
Then down to where the sagebrush grows
There is a blending to
A lilac and a lavender,
And then a purple hue.
While at the ending of the range
The low foot hill|M)egin
In shaded deep ultramarine
And blue peeps in agairiVN^f^**^
Then low—look up! above,
The pinnacles, *plhold,
Are flecked with purest cadmium
And&fpotted in dull gold,
With splashes bold of orange there
And, yes, vermillion too.
While the colors hold you spellbound
In their riot until you
Are content to be bewildered
In gazing at the sight,
KB'ill they disappear entirely
In the closing of the night.Registrar

£2* O FAR thp^life I’ve lived on earth
to term bad.
I’ve done some good things now and then
And made some folks feel glad.
I’ve made myself some enemies
And ordered some to hell,
But if they followed my command
I’ve no way yet to tell.
Half of my life I now have lived;
One half I’ve yet to go.
When that last half of life |l|lived
Right now I’d like to know
What will my condemnation be—~
A shovel or a crown?
Will it be my luck to go up
Or jinx to haul me down?
No matter which way I may go,
^^Bheaven or to hell,
Unto the clerk who keeps the books
This much I wish to te^H
►*ijTm here at last, and here to stay.
I’ve come to take my place,
And so my friends may all know me
I’ll register as ACE.”*

t

#


■f
%

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sThus ends this little book of mine,
These bits of most eccentric rhyme.
Like that which wags on doggies most
It is the end, so
ADIOS!*
f ft

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