Just little poem about the pilot, about the one it all started.

Their ride for Amnesty: the beginning.

As always: I don't own Alias Smith and Jones or the characters in it. No profit is made with this.

But I hope you enjoy:-)

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Out of the Devil's Hole,

they came to catch a train,

not to take a ride,

but to snatch the iron's horse booty.

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Their plans gone wrong,

since the dynamite did not blow,

failed to open the safe,

Cause of the river's waters,

it had drowned in.

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This Brooker, it was tough

and time not enough,

so instead they decide

to take it on a wild chase.

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So they rode; the posse behind them.

With the Brooker on a line,

bound to their horses,

what a fine trace it made!

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From the hill top,

they threw it down,

for it to conquer the Brooker's will.

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But that again, it went wrong.

And then they fought.

Fought about who'd be smart enough,

to break that damned Brooker's lock,

for it to hit the right rock.

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But to their dismay, it did not break.

No, instead it sank,

into the lake's depths.

-----

So, one last time they tried,

they dove into the lake,

dove, to get it right.

----------

In vain it all was,

for the Brooker was lost,

because all they found,

was an old stove.

----

The booty lost and the hounds near,

time had run out.

Almost to late for them,

but two of them,

one smart as the other was fast,

they had enough of the run.

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So, their habit they broke,

cause their luck had run out.

Now, the tried for something elusive,

written on a piece of paper, given by a smart old Lady.

something called Amnesty.