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Parrish, Randall, 1858-1923

"A Romance of the Black Hawk War"

Let me
help you down, Eloise. Is that all you have to report, Tim?"
He lifted his hat, and scratched gently his thin hair.
"Only thet them Injuns went south. I done run onto their trail after
yer left--it wus plain as the nose on yer face. Thar must'r bin a slew
o' 'em, an' sum a hoss-back; they wus a strikin' straight across
yonder, an' I reckon they fetched a prisoner 'long, sumbody wearin'
boots enyhow, fer I saw the tracks in the mud."
"Poor fellow. We'll not remain here, Kennedy, only to rest for an
hour, or two. We'll not risk a fire."
"Sure not--ain't got nuthin' ter cook, enyhow." He hesitated, as
though something was on his mind, glancing toward the girls, and
lowering his voice. "I ain't so very dern tired, an' reckon I'll scout
'round a bit. Them red devils might'r overlooked a rifle er two back
thar in the timber, an' I'd sure like ter git my fingers on one."
I nodded indifferently, too completely exhausted myself to care what he
did, and then dull-eyed watched him disappear through the trees. No
one spoke, even Eloise failing to question me, as I approached where
she and Elsie had flung themselves on the short grass, although her
heavy eyes followed my movement, and she made an effort to smile.
"One can easily see by your face how tired you are," I said,
compassionately, looking kindly down at her. "I am going to sleep for
an hour or two, and you had both better do the same. Tim is going to
keep guard.


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