All mornin' in the mesa's glare
After his crouchin' back I clattered,
And quick shots cut the heavy air
And on the rocks the hot lead spattered.
A dollar crimped, a word too free—
My enemy! My enemy!

He reined beside a rattlers' den
And faced me there to fix the winnin'.
And I wished that he would turn again,
For it was hard to kill him grinnin'.
His hands were empty, I could see.
My enemy! My enemy!

He pointed up; he pointed back.
I looked, and half forgot my hatin'.
A coyote sneaked along our track,
A buzzard hung above us, waitin'.
'Are us four all akin?' says he.
My enemy! My enemy!

The coyote crossed the desert's rim,
The buzzard circled up and faded.
I halved my only smoke with him
And when dark found us limp and jaded,
He sat and kep' the fire for me,
My enemy! My enemy!!