Arnold Rode Behind

WE galloped down the sodden track Close buttoned 'gainst the wind; I took the lead with whip and spur, And Arnold rode behind. The skies were wild; a rending gale Ran roaring through the trees; It sounded now like shouting hosts, And now like angry seas. 'Spur on! Spur on!' I turned and cried, 'The fatal moments fly!' I cursed him then-his trembling hand- I cursed his bloodshot eye. I cursed him for the lust of drink That held his will a slave; For skill to tend and mend was his To succour and to save. I thought of her, the golden girl, My life, my love, nigh spent, Nigh death, with fever clutching her, And what his coming meant. Through driving rain and tossing trees I saw her pale with pain ; And if my eyes grew wet, perchance 'Twas not the wet of rain. I turned on Arnold, and I vowed To pay with coin of hate His ten-mile ride, his boasted skill, If he should prove too late; I mixed my words with searing scorn, And turned and told him plain, Of how I found him stupid, drugged, With dull and sluggish brain. And how the wasted hours went by- I waiting by his side- Till he should wake, and be himself, And mount his horse and ride. And 'Arnold, if she die'-I said- 'Be yours the lot accurst- In life to thirst, to thirst in death, In Hell to thirst and thirst.' And so with black and bitter words, Close-buttoned 'gainst the wind, With whip and spur I galloped on, And Arnold rode behind. No word he said, no answer gave, No bitter curse flung back, But, sagging in the saddle, sank A shamed thing in my track. The skies were lead, and leaden rain- A screen of sullen lead. A wind-blown screen, a blinding screen- Fell down from overhead. Though cattle die, and pastures fade, With drought on hill and plain, 'Fore God, I pray I may not see The like of that blind rain! The torn leaves swirled about my head; The gum-trees tall and stout Waved limbs and tossed tormented crests As in a forest rout. The wind was now like hounds a-hunt, And now like hounds that whined. Yet ever on and on I rode, And Arnold rode behind. And soon there rose a mighty noise; Above the wind it roared; And. bursting through the screen of rain, We came to Kelvin's Ford. I reined my horse in mute amaze, A stunned and stricken man; For 'twixt me and my heart's own love A thwarting river ran. I looked upon its maddened waste; I drew a broken breath; I said, ' Tis hopeless-ended all- To dare the Ford were death.' The wind was like a pack of hounds Upon a forest-hunt- . . . And then I heard a splash of hoofs- And Arnold rode in front, His face was lit-I vow 'twas lit Like glorious evening skies; And, as he turned and smiled, flashed out The manhood from his eyes. And then I knew that through his soul A dauntless purpose ran As, shaking shame and sin aside, He rose once more a Man. He fought the river inch by inch, Set will against its might, Gave way with it, and came again, And conquered in the fight. And saved Her . . . conquered Death as well. 0 Heart-so dull, so blind!- Oft-times, denied his chance in life, The hero rides behind.