The U. P. Trail by Zane Grey (ebook reader play store .TXT) 📕

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;