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King, Charles, 1844-1933

"A Daughter of the Sioux A Tale of the Indian frontier"

Down again at
furious speed came a scattered cloud of young braves, following the lead
of the tall, magnificent chief who had been the hero of the earlier
attack,--down into the low ground, never swerving or checking pace,
straight for the grove, the three or four inquisitive blue-coats in the
meantime scurrying for shelter; and the yell that went up at sight of
the Indian dash and the quick reopening of the sputtering fire brought
Ray, running once again to the northward edge of the timber, wondering
what could be amiss. Field was lying on his blanket, just under the
bank, as the captain darted by, and grinned his gratification as he
heard the brief, assuring words: "Webb's here--all hands with him." An
instant later a bullet whizzed through the roots of the old cottonwood
above his head, and from far out afield, deadened by the rush of the
wind, a dull crackle of shots told that something had recalled the Sioux
to the attack, and for three minutes there was a lively fusillade all
along the northward side. Then it slowly died away, and other voices,
close at hand,--someone speaking his name,--called the lad's attention.
He was weak from loss of blood, and just a little dazed and flighty.


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