Page:Rudyard Kipling's verse - Inclusive Edition 1885-1918.djvu/138

 Till a voice, as bad as Conscience, rang interminable changes On one everlasting Whisper day and night repeated—so: "Something hidden. Go and find it.  Go and look behind the Ranges—  "Something lost behind the Ranges. Lost and waiting for you. Go!"

So I went, worn out of patience; never told my nearest neighbours— Stole away with pack and ponies—left 'em drinking in the town; And the faith that moveth mountains didn't seem to help my labours As I faced the sheer main-ranges, whipping up and leading down.

March by march I puzzled through 'em, turning flanks and dodging shoulders, Hurried on in hope of water, headed back for lack of grass; Till I camped above the tree-line—drifted snow and naked boulders— Felt free air astir to windward—knew I'd stumbled on the Pass.

'Thought to name it for the finder: but that night the Norther found me— Froze and killed the plains-bred ponies; so I called the camp Despair (It's the Railway Gap to-day, though). Then my Whisper waked to hound me:— "Something lost behind the Ranges. Over yonder!  Go you there!"