“Like a candle that stays in a window at night,
Your fond love has cheered me and guided me right.”
For Jimmy Devlin could sing, and many a crowded bunk-house had remained
hushed long after his voice had died away. Jimmy had only sung once in
prison. It was not allowed; but one night, long after the corridors were
quiet, his voice was lifted in melody and he sang “My Wild Irish Rose.”
A burly guard, with a deep brogue, came to his door and haltingly
commanded him to “desist that yowlin’!” But it was only after the last
note had died away. Jimmy said nothing, but a prisoner across the
corridor swore feelingly at the guard, who made no reply. Even prison
guards are human.
Jimmy struck a well-worn cattle-trail, which led him straight to the
ranch-house. He could smell the odors of cooking, as Mrs. Moore cooked
supper for Bud Deal. He could see two people standing on the front
steps, back-lighted by the lamplight from the open door.
Jimmy did not know just what conditions might be found at this
particular ranch-house; so, instead of walking boldly to the people on
the porch, he stopped and announced his coming with an old cowboy song:
“I’m so goshawful hungry, I’m plumb out of breath;
If some one won’t shoot me, I’ll sure starve to death.”