Sunset Ranch: A Story of a Boy's Adventures in the West — page 72: what you’re looking at

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

64 At the Sioux Camp. teresting sport, in which an Indian naturally takes the keenest delight. “Ready?” cried the chief. “Yes, yes,’ shouted the impatient cowboys, anx- ious to see the start. | “Go!” came the command. “Thar they go,” yelled the crowd of cowboys. “Give it to him, Karl. Buckskin’s goin’ to swipe the prize. Go home, you red fool!” “Q-he-o!” followed the shriek of the Indians. The two young competitors shot forward like twin arrows from the same bow—side by side they crossed the line amid the thunderous shouts of the spectators, in which the shrill cries of the Indians could be heard above the hoarser yells of the cow- boys. Karl, whose life had been almost spent in the sad- dle, knew full well that in a game of this sort, cool- ness and watchfulness meant half the battle. He knew the wonderful power possessed by his horse to make an unrivaled spurt, and felt certain that if he could hold the Indian up to the last stretch the race was his beyond any question. It seemed as though the other were in no hurry to bring out the latent qualities in his noble steed, for during the first mile lap the two rivals galloped , side by side. The pace was hot enough to satisfy those who looked on, but the experienced easily detected the fact that as yet neither horse had by long odds been ‘put to his best paces. Karl, looking across toward his lithe competitor, could see a dusky face turned in his direction, a face that was lighted by a savage smile, and then he knew positively that Little Buckshot was the ma- rauding young buck whom he had wounded in the timber, for the mask being thrown aside, he saw him as he was. cConnicloooks.€©