"Grey, Zane - The U.P. Trail" - читать интересную книгу автора (Grey Zane)

"Lass, we're in the Wyoming hills, an' I wish to the Lord we was
out," he answered.

Then he picked up the deer carcass, a heavy burden, and slung it,
hoofs in front, over his shoulders.

"Let me carry your gun," said Allie.

They started toward camp.

"Lass, listen," began Horn, earnestly. "Mebbe there's no need to
fear. But I don't like Injun tracks. Not these days. Now I'm goin'
to scare this lazy outfit. Mebbe thet'll make them rustle. But don't
you be scared."

In camp the advent of fresh venison was hailed with satisfaction.

"Wal, I'll gamble the shot thet killed this meat was heerd by
Injuns," blurted out Horn, as he deposited his burden on the grass
and whipped out his hunting-knife. Then he glared at the outfit of
men he had come to despise.

"Horn, I reckon you 'pear more set up about Injuns than usual,"
remarked Jones.

"Fresh Sioux track right out thar along the brook."

"No!"

"Sioux!" exclaimed another.

"Go an' look fer yourself."

Not a man of them moved a step. Horn snorted his disdain and without
more talk began to dress the deer.

Meanwhile the sun set behind the ridge and the day seemed far spent.
The evening meal of the travelers was interrupted when Horn suddenly
leaped up and reached for his rifle.

"Thet's no Injun, but I don't like the looks of how he's comin'."

All gazed in the direction in which Horn pointed. A horse and rider
were swiftly approaching down the trail from the west. Before any of
the startled campers recovered from their surprise the horse reached
the camp. The rider hauled up short, but did not dismount.

"Hello!" he called. The man was not young. He had piercing gray eyes
and long hair. He wore fringed gray buckskin, and carried a long,