Sunset Ranch: A Story of a Boy's Adventures in the West — page 131: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

The Sioux Village. 121 frown gathered over the heavy brows with Cuth- bert’s last word. “White boy fool. Try run away—ugh!’ And with a significant gesture, he swung his gun to the “present” and peered along the barrel. Then the eternal grin settled again over the brown -aaaraien and, chuckling aloud, he sauntered to the ront They were still on the prairie. The same great sea of grass, flower-studded and waving in the morning breeze, surrounded them on all sides. There could be no doubt but that the marauders desired to place many leagues between them- selves and the hard riders of Sunset Ranch ere the shades fell again. Perhaps they did not exactly fear an encountér with Kelly’s cowboys, but common prudence and a desire to save the stolen horses urged them to make good use of their time. Cuthbert never had such a ride. Accustomed to feeling a good saddle under him, this bareback business came hard after several hours’ hard consecutive work, so that at noon he begged an old Indian blanket and strapped this on Buckskin’s back, after which his discomfort van- ished. The pace was no longer hot, though it was simply wonderful what endurance those tough little ponies were capable of showing. Steadily the miles slipped away until Cuthbert could no longer give even a rough guess as to the distance separating him from his friends. Far into the night, by the aid of the bright moon, the Indian band pushed on. The country was entirely unfamiliar to the pris- oner, since in his longest rides with Karl when out on a hunt he had never reached this section. Connicloo©e® S C©