Slingerland found a pick and shovel, which Neale remembered to have used in building the dugout; and with these the two men toiled at the frozen sand and gravel to open up a grave; It was like digging in stone.

At length they succeeded. Then, rolling Service in the blankets and tarpaulin, they lowered him into the cold ground and hurriedly filled up his grave.

It was a grim, gruesome task. Another nameless grave! Neale had already seen nine graves. This one was up the slope not a hundred feet from the line of survey.

"Slingerland," exclaimed Neale, "the railroad will run along there!

Trains will pa.s.s this spot. In years to come travelers will look out of the train windows along here. Boys riding away to seek their fortunes!

Bride and groom on their honeymoon! Thousands of people--going, coming, busy, happy at their own affairs, full of their own lives--will pa.s.s by poor Service's grave and never know it's there!"

"Wal, son, if people must hev railroads, they must kill men to build them," replied the trapper.

Neale conceived the idea that Slingerland did, not welcome the coming of the steel rails. The thought shocked him. But then, he reflected, a trapper would not profit by the advance of civilization.

With the wind in their backs Neale and Slingerland were practically blown home. They made it up between them to keep knowledge of the tragedy from Allie. So ended the coldest and hardest and grimmest day Neale had ever known.

The winter pa.s.sed, the snows melted, the winds quieted, and spring came.

Long since Neale had decided to leave Allie with Slingerland that summer. She would be happy there, and she wished to stay until Neale could take her with him. That seemed out of the question for the present. A construction camp full of troopers and laborers was no place for Allie. Neale dreaded the idea of taking her to Omaha. Always in his mind were haunting fears of this Spaniard, Durade, who had ruined Allie's mother, and of the father whom Allie had never seen. Neale instinctively felt that these men were to crop up somewhere in his life, and before they did appear he wanted to marry Allie. She was now little more than sixteen years old.

Neale's plans for the summer could not be wholly known until he had reported to the general staff, which might be at Fort Fetterman or North Platte or all the way back in Omaha. But it was probable that he would be set to work with the advancing troops and trains and laborers.

Engineers had to accompany both the grading gangs and the rail gangs.

Neale, in his talks with Larry and Slingerland, had dwelt long and conjecturingly upon what life was going to be in the construction camps.

To Larry what might happen was of little moment. He lived in the present. But Neale was different. He had to be antic.i.p.ating events; he lived in the future, his mind was centered on future work, achievement, and what he might go through in attaining his end. Slingerland was his appreciative listener.

"Wal," he would say, shaking his grizzled head, "I reckon I don't believe all your General Lodge says is goin' to happen."

"But, man, can't you imagine what it will be?" protested Neale. "Take thousands of soldiers--the riffraff of the war--and thousands of laborers of all cla.s.ses, n.i.g.g.e.rs, greasers, pigtail c.h.i.n.ks, and Irish.

Take thousands of men who want to earn an honest dollar, but not honestly. All the gamblers, outlaws, robbers, murderers, criminals, adventurers in the States, and perhaps many from abroad, will be on the trail. Think, man, of the money--the gold! Millions spilled out in these wilds!... And last and worst--the bad women!"

Slingerland showed his amazement at the pictures drawn by Neale, especially at the final one.

"Wal, I reckon thet's all guff too," he said. "A lot of bad women out in these wilds ain't to be feared. Supposin' thar was a lot of them which ain't likely--how'd they ever git out to the camps?"

"Slingerland, the trains--the trains will follow the laying of the rails!"

"Oho! An' you mean thar'll be towns grow up overnightall full of bad people who ain't workin' on the railroad, but jest followin' the gold?"

"Exactly. Now listen. Remember all these mixed gangs--the gold--and the bad women--out here in the wild country--no law--no restraint--no fear, except of death--drinking-h.e.l.ls--gambling-h.e.l.ls--dancing-h.e.l.ls! What's going to happen?"

The trapper meditated a while, stroking his beard, and then he said: "Wal, thar ain't enough gold to build thet railroad--an' if thar was it couldn't never be done!"

"Ah!" cried Neale, raising his head sharply. "It's a matter of gold first. Streams of gold! And then--can it be done?"

One day, as the time for Neale's departure grew closer, Slingerland's quiet and peaceful valley was violated by a visit from four rough-looking men.

They rode in without packs. It was significant to Neale that Larry swore at sight of them, and then in his cool, easy way sauntered between them and the cabin door, where Allie stood with astonishment fixed on her beautiful face. The Texan always packed his heavy gun, and certainly no Western men would mistake his quality. These visitors were civil enough, asked for a little tobacco, and showed no sign of evil intent.

"Way off the beaten track up hyar," said one.

"Yes. I'm a trapper," replied Slingerland. "Whar do you hail from?"

"Ogden. We're packin' east."

"Much travel on the trail?"

"Right smart fer wild country. An' all goin' east. We hain't met an outfit headin' west. Hev you heerd any talk of a railroad buildin' out of Omaha?"

Here Larry put a word in.

"Sh.o.r.e. We've had soldiers campin' around aboot all heah."

"Soldiers!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed one of the gang.

"Sh.o.r.e, the road's bein' built by soldiers."

The men made no further comment and turned away without any good-bys.

Slingerland called out to them to have an eye open for Indians on the war-path.

"Wal, I don't like the looks of them fellars," he declared.

Neale likewise took an unfavorable view of the visit, but Larry scouted the idea of there being any danger in a gang like that.

"Sh.o.r.e they'd be afraid of a man," he declared.

"Red, can you look at men and tell whether or not there's danger in them?" inquired Neale.

"I sh.o.r.e can. One man could bluff thet outfit.... But I reckon I'd hate to have them find Allie aboot heah alone."

"I can take care of myself," spoke up Allie, spiritedly.

Neale and Slingerland, for all their respect for the cowboy's judgment, regarded the advent of these visitors as a forerunner of an evil time for lonely trappers.

"I'll hev to move back deeper in the mountains, away from the railroad,"

said Slingerland.

This incident also put a different light upon the intention Neale had of hunting for the buried gold. Just now he certainly did not want to risk being seen digging gold or packing it away; and Slingerland was just as loath to have it concealed in or near his cabin.

"Wal, seein' we're not sure it's really there, let's wait till you come back in summer or fall," he suggested. "If it's thar it'll stay thar."

All too soon the dawn came for Neale's departure with Larry. Allie was braver than he. At the last he was white and shaken. She kissed Larry.

"Reddy, you'll take care of yourself--and him," she said.

"Allie, I sh.o.r.e will. Good-by." Larry rode down the trail in the dim gray dawn.

"Watch sharp for Indians," she breathed, and her face whitened momentarily. Then the color returned. Her eyes welled full of sweet, soft light.