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

heavy, muzzle-loading rifle.

"I'm Slingerland--trapper in these hyar parts," he went on, with
glance swiftly taking in the group. "Who's boss of this caravan?"

"I am--Bill Horn," replied the leader, stepping out.

"Thar's a band of Sioux redskins on your trail."

Horn lifted his arms high. The other men uttered exclamations of
amaze and dread. The women were silent.

"Did you see them?" asked Horn.

"Yes, from a ridge back hyar ten miles. I saw them sneakin' along
the trail an' I knowed they meant mischief. I rode along the ridges
or I'd been hyar sooner."

"How many Injuns?"

"I counted fifteen. They were goin' along slow. Like as not they've
sent word fer more. There's a big Sioux camp over hyar in another
valley."

"Are these Sioux on the war-path?"

"I saw dead an' scalped white men a few days back," replied
Slingerland.

Horn grew as black as a thundercloud, and he cursed the group of
pale-faced men who had elected to journey eastward with him.

"You'll hev to fight," he ended, brutally, "an' thet'll be some
satisfaction to me."

"Horn, there's soldiers over hyar in camp," went on Slingerland. "Do
you want me to ride after them?"

"Soldiers!" ejaculated Horn.

"Yes. They're with a party of engineers surveyin' a line fer a
railroad. Reckon I could git them all hyar in time to save you--IF
them Sioux keep comin' slow.... I'll go or stay hyar with you."

"Friend, you go--an' ride thet hoss!"

"All right. You hitch up an' break camp. Keep goin' hard down the
trail, an' I'll fetch the troops an' head off the redskins."

"Any use to take to the hills?" queried Horn, sharply.