"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, pa.s.sionately, "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."