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He tipped his hat and he said to her:
“Ma’am, a pleasure to make your acquaintance.
Can you kindly tell me why those whores are out,
has no one taught those girls a lick of sense?”

She chuckled softly, and then said to him:
“I see you haven’t been to L.A. for a while.
They’re not prostitutes, just dumb teenager girls,
aping the latest in Hollywood ‘style.’

“I don’t know what they see in that stuff,
you’d never catch me wearing that dreck.
Like great-gramma Norma once said to my mom,
‘A woman needs to have her self-respect.'

“But you yourself are dressed unusually,
are you in the middle of some sort of L.A.R.P.?
If your trying to look like an old-time cowboy,
I must say you’ve really nailed the part!”

Linton smiled at the friendly woman and said:
“I’m not exactly sure what you mean—”
Then came a flash of blue and of red,
and an auto made a metallic scream.

Two men emerged from a dark blue car,
dressed up somewhat like the city police.
one shouted,”You on the horse with the two guns,
you throw up your hands and you freeze!”

Linton saw them pointing what looked like pistols,
though they strangely had no cylinders,
panic set it, and he kicked hard on his horse,
the mare racing at the touch of the spurs.

The men behind then did not start to shoot,
but they brought their automobile to life,
he heard it’s engine, but the road ended soon,
his horse cleared it’s metal rail in flight.

The police clambered out, and followed on foot,
but they’d no chance to catch up with him now,
he raced for the light, squinting as he neared,
passing through as fast as his horse would allow.

He opened his eyes, and saw nothing but scrub,
his heart still a-pounding frantically,
glancing over his shoulder all Linton saw…
...was a dry ravine running down to the sea.

CONCLUDES IN PART III.
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