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Curwood, James Oliver, 1879-1927

"The Alaskan"

After that he would come to her as swiftly as he
could run.
They started. Within five minutes they were on the floor of the tundra.
About them in all directions stretched the sunlit plains. Half a mile
back toward the range were moving figures; farther west were others, and
eastward, almost at the edge of the ravine, were two men who would have
discovered them in another moment if they had not descended into the
hollow. Alan could see them kneeling to drink at the little coulee which
ran through it.
"Don't hurry," he said, with a sudden swift thought. "Keep parallel with
me and a distance away. They may not discover you are a woman and
possibly may think we are searchers like themselves. Stop when I stop.
Follow my movements."
"Yes, sir!"
Now, in the sunlight, she was not afraid. Her cheeks were flushed, her
eyes bright as stars as she nodded at him. Her face and hands were
soiled with muck-stain, her dress spotted and torn, and looking at her
thus Alan laughed and cried out softly:
"You beautiful little vagabond!"
She sent the laugh back, a soft, sweet laugh to give him courage, and
after that she watched him closely, falling in with his scheme so
cleverly that her action was better than his own--and so they had made
their way over a third of the plain when Alan came toward her suddenly
and cried, "Now, _run_!"
A glance showed her what was happening.


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