by Grey, Zane
At the open door of the building Neale met Baxter face to face, and that worthy's greeting left Neale breathless and aghast, yet thrilling with sheer gladness.
"What're you up against?" asked Neale.
"The boss 'll talk to you. Get in there!" Baxter replied, and pushed Neale inside. It was a big room, full of smoke, noise, men, tables, papers. There were guns stacked under port-holes. Some one spoke to Neale, but he did not see who it was. All the faces he saw so swiftly appeared vague, yet curious and interested. Then Baxter halted him at a table. Once again Neale faced his chief.
Baxter announced something. Neale did not hear the words plainly.
General Lodge looked older, sterner, more worn. He stood up.
"Hello, Neale!" he said, offering his hand, and the flash of a smile went over his grim face.
"Come in here," continued the chief, and he led Neale into another room, of different aspect. It was small; the walls were of logs; new boards had been recently put in the floor; new windows had been cut; and it contained Indian blankets, chairs, a couch.
Here General Lodge bent a stern and piercing gaze upon his former lieutenant.
"Neale, you failed me when you quit your job," he said. "You were my right-hand man. You quit me in my hour of need."
"General, I; I was furious at that rotten commissioner deal," replied Neale, choking. What he had done now seemed an offense to his chief. "My work was ordered done over!"
"Neale, that was nothing to what I've endured. You should have grit your teeth; and gone on. That five miles of reconstruction was nothing; nothing."
In his chief's inflexible voice, in the worn, shadowed face, Neale saw the great burden, and somehow he was reminded of Lincoln, and a passion of remorse seized him. Why had he not been faithful to this steadfast man who had needed him!
"It seemed; so much to me," faltered Neale.
"Why did you not look at that as you have looked at so many physical difficulties; the running of a survey, for instance?"
"I; I guess I have a yellow streak."
"Why didn't you come to me?" went on the chief. Evidently he had been disappointed in Neale.
"I might have come; only Larry, my friend; he got into it, and I was afraid he'd kill somebody," replied Neale.
"That cowboy; he was a great fellow, but gone wrong. He shot one of the bosses; Smith."
"Yes, I know. Did; did Smith die?"
"No, but he'll never be any more good for the U. P. R., that's certain.... Where is your friend now?"
"I left him in Benton."
"Benton!" exclaimed the chief, bitterly. "I am responsible for Benton. This great work of my life is a hell on wheels, moving on and on.... Your cowboy friend has no doubt found his place; and his match; in Benton."
"Larry has broken loose from me; from any last restraint."
"Neale, what have you been doing?"
And at that Neale dropped his head.
"Idling in the camps; drifting from one place to the next; drinking, gambling, eh?"
"I'm ashamed to say, sir, that of late I have been doing just those things," replied Neale, and he raised his gaze to his chief's.
"But you haven't been associating with those camp women!" exclaimed General
Lodge, with his piercing eyes dark on Neale.
"No!" cried Neale. The speech had hurt him.
"I'm glad to hear that; gladder than you can guess. I was afraid; But no matter.... What you did do is bad enough. You ought to be ashamed. A young man with your intelligence, your nerve, your gifts! I have not had a single man whose chances compared with yours. If you had stuck you'd be at the head of my engineer corps right now. Baxter is played out. Boone is ill. Henney had to take charge of the shops in Omaha.... And you, with fortune and fame awaiting you, throw up your job to become a bum... to drink and gamble away your life in these rotten camps!"
General Lodge's scorn flayed Neale.
"Sir, you may not know I; I lost some one; very dear to me. After that I didn't seem to care." Neale turned to the window. He was ashamed of what blurred his eyes. "If it hadn't been for that; I'd never have failed you."
The chief strode to Neale and put a hand on his shoulder. "Son, I believe you.
Maybe I've been a little hard. Let's forget it." His tone softened and there was a close pressure of his hand. "The thing is now; will you come back on the job?"
"Baxter's note; Campbell said they'd struck a snag here. You mean help them get by that?"
"Snag! I guess it is a snag. It bids fair to make all our labor and millions of dollars; wasted.... But I'm not asking you to come back just to help us over this snag. I mean will you come back for good; and stick?"
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.
Chapter 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 endure
d 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 to get you here. It has been a whole terrible week of waiting.... But now; "
"Allie," burst out Neale, "they never told me a word about you; never gave me a hint. They sent for me to come back to my job. I could have come a day sooner; the day Campbell found me.... Oh!"
"I know they did not find you at once. And I learned yesterday they had located you. That eased my mind. A day more or less; what was that? ... But they were somehow strange about you. Then Mrs. Dillon told me how the chief had been disappointed in you; how he had needed you; how he must have you back."
"Good Lord! Getting me back would have been easy enough if they had only told me!" exclaimed Neale, impatiently.
"Dear, maybe that was just it. I suspect General Lodge cared enough for you to want you to come back to your job for your sake; for his sake; for sake of the railroad. And not for me."
"Aha!" breathed Neale, softly. "I wonder! ... Allie, how cheap, how little I felt awhile ago, when he talked to me. I never was so ashamed in my life. He called me.... But that's over.... You said Durade had you. Allie, that scares me to death."
"It scares me, too," she replied. "For I'm in more danger hidden here than when he had me."
"Oh no! How can that be?"
"He would kill me for running away," she shuddered, paling. "But while I was with him, obedient; I don't think he would have done me harm. I'm more afraid now than when I was his prisoner."
"I'll take a bunch of soldiers and go after Durade," said Neale, grimly.
"No. Don't do that. Let him alone. Just get me away safely, far out of his reach."
"But, Allie, that's not possible now," declared Neale, "I'm certainly not going to lose sight of you, now I've got you again. And I must go back to work. I promised."
"I can stay here; or go along with you to other camps, and be careful to veil myself and hide."
"But that's not safe; not the best plan," protested Neale. Then he gave a start; his face darkened. "I'll put Larry King on Durade's trail."
"Oh no, Neale! Don't do that! Please don't do that! Larry would kill him."
"I rather guess Larry would. And why not?"
"I don't want Durade killed. It would be dreadful. He never hurt me. Let him alone. After all, he seems to be the only father I ever knew. Oh, I don't care for him. I despise him.... But let him live.... He will soon forget me. He is mad to gamble. This railroad of gold is a rich stake for him. He will not last long, nor will any of his kind."
Neale shook his head doubtfully. "It doesn't seem wise to me; letting him go....
Allie, does he use his right name; Durade?"
"No."
"What does he look like? You described him once to me, but I've forgotten."
Allie resolutely refused to tell him and once more entreated Neale to let well enough alone, to keep her hidden from the mob, and not to seek Durade.
"He has a bad gang," she added. "They might kill you. And do you; you think
I'd; ever be; able to live longer without you?"
Whereupon Neale forgot all about Durade and vengeance, and everything but the nearness and sweetness of this girl.
"When shall we get married?" he asked, presently.
This simple question caused Allie to avert her face, and just at that moment there came a knock on the door. Allie made a startled movement.
"Come in," called Neale.
It was his chief who entered. General Lodge's face wore the smile that softened it. Then it showed surprise.
"Neale, you're transfigured!"
Neale's laugh rang out. "Behold cause; even for that," he replied, indicating the blushing Allie.
"Son, I didn't have to play my trump card to fetch you back to work," said the general.
"If you only had!" exclaimed Neale.
Allie got up, shyly and with difficulty disengaged her hand from Neale's.
"You; you must want to talk," she said, and then she fled.
"A wonderful girl, Neale. We're all in love with her," declared the chief. "She dropped down on us one night; asked for protection and you. She does not talk much. All we know is that she is the girl you saved back in the hills and has been kept a prisoner. Here she hides, by day and night. She will not talk. But we know she fears some one."
"Yes, indeed she does," replied Neale, seriously. And then briefly he told
General Lodge Allie's story as related by her.
"Well!" ejaculated the chief. "If that doesn't beat me! ... What are you going to do?"
"I'll keep her close. Surely she will be safe here; hidden; with the soldiers about."
"Of course. But you can never tell what's going to happen. If she could be gotten to Omaha; now; "
"No; no," replied Neale, almost violently. He could not bear the thought of parting with Allie, now just when he had found her. Then the chief's suggestion had reminded Neale of the possibility of Allie's father materializing. And the idea was attended by a vague dread.
"I appreciate how you feel. Don't worry about it, Neale."
"What's this snag the engineers are up against?" queried Neale, abruptly changing the subject.
"We're stuck. It's an engineering problem that I hope; and expect you to solve."
/>
"Who ran this survey in the first place?"
"It's Baxter's work; with the men he had under him then," replied the chief.
"Somebody blundered. His later surveys make over one hundred feet grade to the mile. That won't do. We've got to get down to ninety feet. Baxter's stuck. The new surveyor is floundering. Oh, it's bad business. Neale... I don't sleep of nights."
"No wonder," returned Neale, and he felt suddenly the fiery grip of his old state of mind toward all the engineering obstacles. "I'm going out to look over the ground."
"I'll send Baxter and some of the men with you."
"No, thanks," replied Neale. "I'd rather; take up my job all alone out there."
The chief's acquiescence was silent and eloquent.
Neale strode outdoors. The color of things, the feel of wind, the sounds of men and horses all about him, had remarkably changed, just as he himself had incalculably changed; General Lodge had said; transfigured!
He walked down to the construction line and went among the idle men and the strings of cars, the piles of rails and the piles of ties. He seemed to absorb in them again. Then he walked down the loose, unspiked ties to where they ended, and so on along the graded road- bed to the point where his quick eyes recognized the trouble. They swiftly took in what had been done and what had been attempted. How much needless work begun and completed in the building of the railroad! He clambered around in the sand, up and down the ravine, over the rocks, along the stream for half a mile, and it was laborious work. But how good to pant and sweat once more! He retraced his steps. Then he climbed the long slope of the hill. The wind up there blew him a welcome, and the sting and taste of dust were sweet. His steps was swift. And then again he loitered, with keen, roving glance studying the lay of the ground. Neale's was the deductive method of arriving at conclusions. Today he was inspired. And at length there blazed suddenly his solution to the problem.
