The U. P. Trail by Zane Grey (ebook reader play store .TXT) đź“•
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- Author: Zane Grey
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Neale was lifted out of the gloom into which memory had plunged him. He turned to his chief and found him another person. There was a light on his face and eagerness on his lips, and the keen, stern eyes were soft.
“Son, will you come back—stand by me till the finish?” repeated General Lodge, his voice deep and full. There was more here than just the relation of employer to his lieutenant.
“Yes, sir, I’ll come back,” replied Neale, in low voice.
Their hands met.
“Good!” exclaimed the chief.
Then he deliberately took out his watch and studied it. His hand trembled slightly. He did not raise his eyes again to Neale’s face.
“I’ll call you—later,” he said. “You stay here. I’ll send some one in.”
With that he went out.
Neale remained standing, his eyes fixed on the gray-green slope, seen through the window. He seemed a trifle unsteady on his feet, and he braced himself with a knee against the couch. His restraint, under extreme agitation, began to relax. A flooding splendid thought filled his mind—his chief had called him back to the great work.
Presently the door behind him opened and closed very softly. Then he heard a low, quick gasp. Some one had entered. Suddenly the room seemed strange, full, charged with terrible portent. And he turned as if a giant hand had heavily swung him around.
It was not light at the other end of the room, yet he saw a slight figure of a girl backed against the door. Her outline was familiar. Haunting ghost of his dreams! Bewildered and speechless, he stared, trembling all over. The figure moved, swayed. A faint, sweet voice called, piercing his heart like a keen blade. All of a sudden he had gone mad, he thought; this return to his old work had disordered his mind. The tremor of his body succeeded to a dizziness; his breast seemed about to burst.
“NEALE!” called the sweet voice. She was coming toward him swiftly. “IT’S ALLIE—ALIVE AND WELL!”
Neale felt lifted, as if by invisible wings. His limbs were useless—had lost strength and feeling. The room whirled around him, and in that whirl appeared Allie Lee’s face. Alive—flushed—radiant! Recognition brought a maddening check—a shock—and Neale’s sight darkened. Tender, fluttering hands caught him; soft strong arms enfolded him convulsively.
18
Neale seemed to come into another world—a paradise. His eyes doubted the exquisite azure blue—the fleecy cloud—the golden sunshine.
There was a warm, wet cheek pressed close to his, bright chestnut strands of hair over his face, tight little hands clutching his breast. He scarcely breathed while he realized that Allie Lee lived. Then he felt so weak that he could hardly move.
“Allie—you’re not dead?” he whispered.
With a start she raised her head. It was absolutely the face of Allie Lee.
“I’m the livest girl you ever saw,” she replied, with a little low laugh of joy.
“Allie—then you’re actually alive—safe—here!” he exclaimed, in wild assurance.
“Yes—yes.... With you again! Isn’t it glorious? But, oh! I gave you a shock. You frightened me so. Neale, are you well?”
“I wasn’t—but I am now.”
He trembled as he gazed at her. Yes, it was Allie’s face—incomparable, unforgettable. She might have been a little thin and strained. But time and whatever she had endured had only enhanced her loveliness. No harm had befallen her—that was written in the white glow of her face, in the violet eyes, dark and beautiful, with the brave soul shining through their haunting shadows, in the perfect lips, tremulous and tender with love.
“Neale, they told me you gave up your work—were going to the bad,” she said, with an eloquence of distress changing her voice and expression.
“Yes. Allie Lee, I loved you so well—that after I lost you—I cared for nothing.”
“You gave up—”
“Allie,” he interrupted, passionately, “don’t talk of ME!... You haven’t kissed me!”
Allie blushed. “I haven’t?... That’s all you know!”
“Have you?”
“Yes I have—I have.... I was afraid I’d strangled you!”
“I never felt it. I lost all sense of feeling.... Kiss me now! Prove you’re alive and love me still!”
And then presently, when Neale caught his breath again, it was to whisper, “Precious Allie!”
“Am I alive? Do I love you?” she whispered, her eyes like purple stars, her face flooded with a dark rose color.
“I’m forced to believe it, but you must prove it often,” he replied. Then he drew her to a seat beside him. “I’ve had many dreams of you, yet not one like this.... How is it you are alive? By what Providence?... I shall pray to Providence all my life. How do you come to be here? Tell me, quick.”
She leaned close against him. “That’s easy,” she replied. “Only sometime I want to tell you all—everything.... Do you remember the four ruffians who visited Slingerland’s cabin one day when we were all there? Well, they came back one day, the first time Slingerland ever left me alone. They fired the cabin and carried me off. Then they fought among themselves. Two were killed. I made up my mind to get on a horse and run. Just as I was ready I spied Indians riding down. I had to shoot the ruffian Frank. But I didn’t kill him. Then I got on a horse and tried to ride away. The Indians captured me—took me to their camp. There an Indian girl freed me—led me away at night. I found a trail and walked—oh, nights and days it seemed. Then I fell in with a caravan. I thought I was saved. But the leader of that caravan turned out to be Durade.”
“Durade!” echoed Neale, intensely.
“Yes. He was traveling east. He treated me well, but threatened me. When we reached the construction camp, somewhere back there, he started his gambling-place. One night I escaped. I walked all that night—all the next day. And I was about ready to drop when I found this camp. It was night again. I saw the lights. They took me in. Mrs. Dillon and the other women were so kind, so good to me. I told them very little about myself. I only wanted to be hidden here and have them send for you. Then they brought General Lodge, your chief, to see me. He was kind, too. He promised
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