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Grey, Zane, 1872-1939

"The U. P. Trail"

Out shot the car into the light. Likewise
Casey's dark blankness of mind ended. His heart lifted with a mighty
throb. There shone the gray endless slope, stretching out and down
to the black hills in the distance. Shrill wild yells made Casey
wheel. The hillside above the cut was colorful and spotted with
moving objects. Indians! Puffs of white smoke arose. Casey felt the
light impact of lead. Glancing bright streaks darted down. They were
arrows. Two thudded into the gravel, one into the wood. Then
something tugged at his shoulder. Another arrow! Suddenly the shaft
was there in his sight, quivering in his flesh. It bit deep. With
one wrench he tore it out and shook it aloft at the Sioux. "Oh bate
yez dom' Sooz!" he yelled, in fierce defiance. The long screeching
clamor of baffled rage and the scattering volley of rifle-shots kept
up until the car passed out of range.
Casey faced ahead. The Sioux were behind him. He had a free track.
Far down the gray valley, where the rails disappeared, were low
streaks of black smoke from a locomotive. The general's train was
coming.
The burden of worry and dread that had been Casey's was now no more
--vanished as if by magic. His job had not yet been completed, but he
had won. He never glanced back at the Sioux. They had failed in
their first effort at ambushing the cut, and Casey knew the troops
would prevent a second attempt.


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