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Grey, Zane, 1872-1939

"The U. P. Trail"

She kissed
Larry.
"Reddy, you'll take care of yourself--and him," she said.
"Allie, I shore will. Good-by." Larry rode down the trail in the dim
gray dawn.
"Watch sharp for Indians," she breathed, and her face whitened
momentarily. Then the color returned. Her eyes welled full of sweet,
soft light.
"Allie, I can't go," said Neale, hoarsely. The clasp of her arms
unnerved him.
"You must. It's your work. Remember the big job! ... Dearest!
Dearest! Hurry--and--go!"
Neale could no longer see her face clearly. He did not know what he
was saying.
"You'll always--love me?" he implored.
"Do you need to ask? All my life! ... I promise."
"Kiss me, then," he whispered, hoarsely, blindly leaning down. "It's
hell--to leave you! ... Wonderful girl--treasure--precious--Allie! ...
Kiss me--enough! ... I--"
She held him with strong and passionate clasp and kissed him again
and again.
"Good-by!" Her last word was low, choked, poignant, and had in it a
mournful reminder of her old tragic woe.
Then he was alone. Mounting clumsily, with blurred eyes, he rode
into the winding trail.


10
Neale and King traveled light, without pack-animals, and at sunrise
they reached the main trail.
It bore evidence of considerable use and was no longer a trail, but
a highroad.


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