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The U. P. Trail by Zane Grey
page 15 of 534 (02%)
Then the fugitives sat and shivered and waited for dawn. No one
slept. All listened intently to the sounds of the lonely night,
magnified now by their fears. Horn strode to and fro with his rifle
--a grim, dark, silent form. Whenever a wolf mourned, or a cat
squalled, or a night bird voiced the solitude, or a stone rattled
off the cliff, the fugitives started up quiveringly alert, expecting
every second to hear the screeching yell of the Sioux. They
whispered to keep up a flickering courage. And the burly Horn strode
to and fro, thoughtful, as though he were planning something, and
always listening. Allie sat in one of the wagons close to her
mother. She was wide awake and not so badly scared. All through this
dreadful journey her mother had not seemed natural to Allie, and the
farther they traveled eastward the stranger she grew. During the
ride that night she had moaned and shuddered, and had clasped Allie
close; but when the flight had come to a forced end she grew silent.

Allie was young and hopeful. She kept whispering to her mother that
the soldiers would come in time.

"That brave fellow in buckskin--he'll save us," said Allie.

"Child, I feel I'll never see home again," finally whispered Mrs.
Durade.

"Mother!"

"Allie, I must tell you--I must!" cried Mrs. Durade, very low and
fiercely. She clung to her daughter.

"Tell me what?" whispered Allie.
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