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Grey, Zane, 1872-1939

"The U. P. Trail"

She clung there, her body all held rigid, as if
some extraordinary strength or inspiration or joy had suddenly
inhibited weakness.
"Wal, lass, hyar you're takin' it powerful hard--an' I made sure--"
"Hush!" whispered Allie, raising her face. She kissed him. Then she
sprang up like a bent sapling released. She met Slingerland's keen
gaze--saw him start--then rise as if the better to meet a shock.
"I am going back West with you," she said, coolly.
"Wal, I knowed you'd go."
"Divide that gold. I'll leave half for my father." Slingerland's
great hands began to pull at the pack.
"Thar's a train soon. I calkilated to stay over a day. But the
sooner the better.... Lass, will you run off or tell him?"
"I'll tell him. He can't stop me, even if he would.... The gold will
save him from ruin....He will let me go."
She stooped to pick up the little leather note-book and placed it in
her bosom. Her heart seemed to surge against it. The great river
rolled on--rolled on--magnified in her sight. A thick, rich,
beautiful light shone under the trees. What was this dance of her
blood while she seemed so calm, so cool, so sure?
"Does he have any idea--that I might return to him?" she asked.
"None, lass, none! Thet I'll swear," declared Slingerland. "When I
left him at Roarin' City the other day he was--wal, like he used to
be.


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