17
Neale and Larry and Slingerland planned to go into the hills late inthe fall, visit Slingerland's old camp, and then try to locate the goldburied by Horn. For the present Larry meant to return to Benton, andNeale, though vacillating as to his own movements, decided to keep aneye on the cowboy.
The trapper's last words to Neale were interesting. "Son," he said,"there's a feller hyar in Medicine Bow who says as how he thought yourpard Larry was a bad cowpuncher from the Pan Handle of Texas."
"Bad?" queried Neale.
"Wal, he meant a gun-throwin' bad man, I take it."
"Don't let Reddy overhear you say it," replied Neale, "and advise yourinformant to be careful. I've always had a hunch that Reddy was reallysomebody."
"Benton 'll work on the cowboy," continued Slingerland, earnestly. "An',son, I ain't so all-fired sure of you."
"I'll take what comes," returned Neale, shortly. "Good-bye, old friend.And if you can use us for buffalo-hunting without the 'dom' Sooz,' asCasey says; why, we'll come."
After Slingerland departed Neale carried with him a memory of thetrapper's reluctant and wistful good-bye. It made Neale think--wherewere he and Larry going? Friendships in this wild West were strongerties than he had known elsewhere.
The train arrived at Benton after dark. And the darkness seemed a windygulf out of which roared yellow lights and excited men. The tents, withthe dim lights through the canvas, gleamed pale and obscure, like somuch of the life they hid. The throngs hurried, the dust blew, the bandplayed, the barkers clamored for their trade.
Neale found the more pretentious hotels overcrowded, and he wascompelled to go to his former lodgings, where he and Larry wereaccommodated.
"Now, we're here, what 'll we do?" queried Neale, more to himself. Hefelt as if driven. And the mood he hated and feared was impinging uponhis mind.
"Shore we'll eat," replied Larry.
"Then what?"
"Wal, I reckon we'll see what's goin' on in this heah Benton."
As a matter of fact, Neale reflected, there was nothing to do that hewanted to do.
"You-all air gettin' the blues," said Larry, with solicitude.
"Red, I'm never free of them."
Larry put his hands on Neale's shoulder. Demonstration of this kind wasrare in the cowboy.
"Pard, are we goin' to see this heah Benton, an' then brace, an' go backto work?"
"No. I can't hold a job," replied Neale, bitterly.
"You're showin' a yellow streak? You're done, as you told Slingerland?Nothin' ain't no good?... Life's over, fer all thet's sweet an' right?Is thet your stand?"
"Yes, it must be, Reddy," said Neale, with scorn of himself. "Butyou--it needn't apply to you."
"I reckon I'm sorry," rejoined Larry, ignoring Neale's last words. "Ialways hoped you'd get over Allie's loss.... You had so much to livefer."
"Reddy, I wish the bullet that hit Shane to-day had hit me instead....You needn't look like that. I mean it. To-day when the Sioux chased usmy hair went stiff and my heart was in my mouth. I ran for my life asif I loved it. But that was my miserable cowardice.... I'm sick of thegame."
"Are you in daid earnest?" asked Larry, huskily.
Neale nodded gloomily. He did not even regret the effect of his speechupon the cowboy. He divined that somehow the moment was as critical andfateful for Larry, but he did not care. The black spell was enfoldinghim. All seemed hard, cold, monstrous within his breast. He could notlove anything. He was lost. He realized the magnificent loyalty of thissimple Texan, who was his true friend.
"Reddy, for God's sake don't make me ashamed to look you in the eyes,"appealed Neale. "I want to go on. You know!"
"Wal, I reckon there ain't anythin' to hold me now," drawled Larry. Hehad changed as he spoke. He had aged. The dry humor of the cowboy, theamiable ease, were wanting.
"Oh, forgive my utter selfishness!" burst out Neale. "I'm not the man Iwas. But don't think I don't love you."
They went out together, and the hum of riotous Benton called them; thelights beckoned and the melancholy night engulfed them.
Next morning late, on the way to breakfast, Neale encountered a youngman whose rough, bronzed face somehow seemed familiar.
At sight of Neale this young fellow brightened and he lunged forward.
"Neale! Lookin' for you was like huntin' for a needle in a haystack."
Neale could not place him, and he did not try hard for recognition, forthat surely would recall his former relations to the railroad.
"I don't remember you," replied Neale.
"I'll bet Larry does," said the stranger, with a grin at the cowboy.
"Shore. Your name's Campbell an' you was a lineman for Baxter," returnedLarry.
"Right you are," said Campbell, offering his hand to Neale, and then toLarry. He appeared both glad and excited.
"I guess I recall you now," said Neale, thoughtfully. "You said--youwere hunting me?"
"Well, I should smile!" returned Campbell, and handed Neale a letter.
Neale tore it open and hastily perused its contents. It was a brief,urgent request from Baxter that Neale should return to work. The words,almost like an order, made Neale's heart swell for a moment. He stoodthere staring at the paper. Larry read the letter over his shoulder.
"Pard, shore I was expectin' jest thet there, an' I say go!" exclaimedLarry.
Neale slowly shook his head.
Campbell made a quick, nervous movement. "Neale, I was tosay--tell--There's more 'n your old job waitin' for you."
"What do you mean?" queried Neale.
"That's all, except the corps have struck a snag out here west ofBenton. It's a bad place. You an' Henney were west in the hills whenthis survey was made. It's a deep wash--bad grade an' curves. The gang'sstuck. An' Baxter swore, 'We've got to have Neale back on the job!'"
"Where's Henney?" asked Neale, rather thickly. Campbell's words affectedhim powerfully.
"Henney had to go to Omaha. Boone is sick at Fort Fetterman. Baxter hasonly a new green hand out there, an' they've sure struck a snag."
"That's too bad," replied Neale, still thoughtfully. "Is--the chief--isGeneral Lodge there?"
"Yes. There's a trooper camp. Colonel Dillon an' some of the officershave their wives out on a little visit to see the work. They couldn'tstand Benton."
"Well--you thank Baxter and tell him I'm sorry I must refuse," saidNeale.
"You won't come!" ejaculated Campbell.
Neale shook his head. Larry reached out with big, eager hands.
"See heah, pard, I reckon you will go."
Campbell acted strangely, as if he wanted to say more, but did not haveauthority to do so. He looked dismayed. Then he said: "All right, Neale.I'll take your message. But you can expect me back."
And he went on his way.
"Neale, shore there's somethin' in the wind," said Larry. "Wal, it jesttickles me. They can't build the railroad without you."
"Would you go back to work?" queried Neale.
"Shore I would if they'd have me. But I reckon thet little run-in ofmine with Smith has made bad feelin'. An' come to think of thet, if Idid go back I'd only have to fight some of Smith's friends. An' I reckonI'd better not go. It'd only make trouble for you."
"Me!... You heard me refuse."
"Shore I heerd you," drawled Larry, softly, "but you're goin' back if Ihave to hawg-tie you an' pack you out there on a hoss."
Neale said no more. If he had said another word he would have betrayedhimself to his friend. He yearned for his old work. To think that theengineer corps needed him filled him with joy. But at the same time heknew what an effort it would take to apply himself to any task. Hehated to attempt it. He doubted himself. He was morbid. All that day hewandered around at Larry's heels, half oblivious of what was going on.After dark he slipped away from his friend to be alone. And being alonein the dark quietness brought home to him the truth of a strange, stronggrowth, out of the depths of him, that was going to overcome his morbidcravin
g to be idle, to drift, to waste his life on a haunting memory.
He could not sleep that night, and so was awake when Larry lounged in,slow and heavy. The cowboy was half-drunk. Neale took him to task, andthey quarreled. Finally Larry grew silent and fell asleep. After thatNeale likewise dropped into slumber.
In the morning Larry was again his old, cool, easy, reckless self, andhad apparently forgotten Neale's sharp words. Neale, however, felt achange in himself. This was the first morning for a long time that hehad not hated the coming of daylight.
When he and Larry went out the sun was high. For Neale there seemedsomething more than sunshine in the air. At sight of Campbell, waitingin the same place in which they had encountered him yesterday, Neale'spulses quickened.
Campbell greeted them with a bright smile. "I'm back," he said.
"So I see," replied Neale, constrainedly.
"I've a message for you from the chief," announced Campbell.
"The chief!" exclaimed Neale.
Larry edged closer to them, with the characteristic hitch at his belt,and his eyes flashed.
"He asks as a personal favor that you come out to see him," repliedCampbell.
Neale flushed. "General Lodge asks that!" he echoed. There was a slowheat stirring all through him.
"Yes. Will you go?"
"I--I guess I'll have to," replied Neale. He did not feel that he wasdeciding. He had to go. But this did not prove that he must take up hisold work.
Larry swung his hand on Neale's shoulder, almost staggering him. Thecowboy beamed.
"Go in to breakfast," he said. "Order for me, too. I'll be back."
"You want to hurry," rejoined Campbell. "We've only a half-hour to eatan' catch the work-train."
Larry strode back toward the lodging-house. And it was Campbell who ledNeale into the restaurant and ordered the meal. Neale's mind was not ina whirl, nor dazed, but he did not get much further in thought than theremarkable circumstance of General Lodge sending for him personally.Meanwhile Campbell rapidly talked about masonry, road-beds, washouts,and other things that Neale heard but did not clearly understand. ThenLarry returned. He carried Neale's bag, which he deposited carefully onthe bench.
"I reckon you might as well take it along," he drawled.
Neale felt himself being forced along an unknown path.
They indulged in little further conversation while hurriedly eatingbreakfast. That finished, they sallied forth toward the station.Campbell clambered aboard the work-train.
"Come on, Larry," he said.
And Neale joined in the request. "Yes, come," he said.
"Wal, seein' as how I want you-all to get on an' the rail-road built, Ireckon I'd better not go," drawled Larry. His blue eyes shone warm uponhis friend.
"Larry, I'll be back in a day or so," said Neale.
"Aw, now, pard, you stay. Go back on the job an' stick," appealed thecowboy.
"No. I quit and I'll stay quit. I might help out--for a day--just as afavor. But--" Neale shook his head.
"I reckon, if you care anythin' aboot me, you'll shore stick."
"Larry, you'll go to the bad if I leave you here alone," protestedNeale.
"Wel, if you stay we'll both go," replied Larry, sharply. He had changedsubtly. "It's in me to go to hell--I reckon I've gone--but that ain't sofor you."
"Two's company," said Neale, with an attempt at lightness. But it was apretense. Larry worried him.
"Listen. If you go back on the job--then it 'll be all right for you torun in heah to see me once in a while. But if you throw up this chanceI'll--"
Larry paused. His ruddy tan had faded slightly.
Neale eyed him, aware of a hard and tense contraction of the cowboy'sthroat.
"Well, what 'll you do?" queried Neale, shortly.
Larry threw back his head, and the subtle, fierce tensity seemed toleave him.
"Wal, the day you come back I'll clean out Stanton's place--jest tostart entertainin' you," he replied, with his slow drawl as marked asever it was.
A stir of anger in Neale's breast subsided with the big, warmrealization of this wild cowboy's love for him and the melancholycertainty that Larry would do exactly as he threatened.
"Suppose I come back and beat you all up?" suggested Neale.
"Wal, thet won't make a dam' bit of difference," replied Larry,seriously.
Whereupon Neale soberly bade his friend good-bye and boarded the train.
The ride appeared slow and long, dragged out by innumerable stops. Allalong the line laborers awaited the train to unload supplies. At the endof the line there was a congestion Neale had not observed before in allthe work. Freight-cars, loaded with stone and iron beams and girdersfor bridge-work, piles of ties and piles of rails, and gangs of idlemen attested to the delay caused by an obstacle to progress. The sightaggressively stimulated Neale. He felt very curious to learn the causeof the setback, and his old scorn of difficulties flashed up.
The camp Neale's guide led him to was back some distance from theconstruction work. It stood in a little valley through which ran astream. There was one large building, low and flat, made of boards andcanvas, adjoining a substantial old log cabin; and clustered around,though not close together, were a considerable number of tents. Trooperswere in evidence, some on duty and many idle. In the background, theslopes of the valley were dark green with pine and cedar.
At the open door of the building Neale met Baxter face to face, and thatworthy's greeting left Neale breathless and aghast, yet thrilling withsheer gladness.
"What're you up against?" asked Neale.
"The boss 'll talk to you. Get in there!" Baxter replied, and pushedNeale inside. It was a big room, full of smoke, noise, men, tables,papers. There were guns stacked under port-holes. Some one spoke toNeale, but he did not see who it was. All the faces he saw so swiftlyappeared vague, yet curious and interested. Then Baxter halted him ata 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 smilewent 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 boardshad been recently put in the floor; new windows had been cut; and itcontained Indian blankets, chairs, a couch.
Here General Lodge bent a stern and piercing gaze upon his formerlieutenant.
"Neale, you failed me when you quit your job," he said. "You were myright-hand man. You quit me in my hour of need."
"General, I--I was furious at that rotten commissioner deal," repliedNeale, choking. What he had done now seemed an offense to his chief. "Mywork was ordered done over!"
"Neale, that was nothing to what I've endured. You should have grityour teeth--and gone on. That five miles of reconstruction wasnothing--nothing."
In his chief's inflexible voice, in the worn, shadowed face, Neale sawthe great burden, and somehow he was reminded of Lincoln, and a passionof remorse seized him. Why had he not been faithful to this steadfastman 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 physicaldifficulties--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 beendisappointed in Neale.
"I might have come--only Larry, my friend--he got into it, and I wasafraid he'd kill somebody," replied Neale.
"That cowboy--he was a great fellow, but gone wrong. He shot one of thebosses--Smith."
"Yes, I know. Did--did Smith die?"
"No, but he'll never be any more good for the U. P. R., that'scertain.... 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 o
n wheels, moving on and on....Your cowboy friend has no doubt found his place--and his match--inBenton."
"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 thosethings," replied Neale, and he raised his gaze to his chief's.
"But you haven't been associating with those camp women!" exclaimedGeneral 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--Butno matter.... What you did do is bad enough. You ought to be ashamed. Ayoung man with your intelligence, your nerve, your gifts! I have not hada single man whose chances compared with yours. If you had stuck you'dbe 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.... Andyou, with fortune and fame awaiting you, throw up your job to become abum... 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 Ididn't seem to care." Neale turned to the window. He was ashamed of whatblurred his eyes. "If it hadn't been for that--I'd never have failedyou."
The chief strode to Neale and put a hand on his shoulder. "Son, Ibelieve you. Maybe I've been a little hard. Let's forget it." His tonesoftened and there was a close pressure of his hand. "The thing isnow--will you come back on the job?"
"Baxter's note--Campbell said they'd struck a snag here. You mean helpthem get by that?"
"Snag! I guess it is a snag. It bids fair to make all our labor andmillions of dollars--wasted.... But I'm not asking you to come backjust to help us over this snag. I mean will you come back for good--andstick?"
Neale was lifted out of the gloom into which memory had plunged him. Heturned to his chief and found him another person. There was a light onhis 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 GeneralLodge, his voice deep and full. There was more here than just therelation 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 handtrembled 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, seenthrough the window. He seemed a trifle unsteady on his feet, and hebraced himself with a knee against the couch. His restraint, underextreme agitation, began to relax. A flooding splendid thought filledhis mind--his chief had called him back to the great work.
Presently the door behind him opened and closed very softly. Then heheard a low, quick gasp. Some one had entered. Suddenly the room seemedstrange, full, charged with terrible portent. And he turned as if agiant hand had heavily swung him around.
It was not light at the other end of the room, yet he saw a slightfigure 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 voicecalled, piercing his heart like a keen blade. All of a sudden he hadgone mad, he thought; this return to his old work had disordered hismind. The tremor of his body succeeded to a dizziness; his breast seemedabout 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--hadlost strength and feeling. The room whirled around him, and in thatwhirl appeared Allie Lee's face. Alive--flushed--radiant! Recognitionbrought a maddening check--a shock--and Neale's sight darkened. Tender,fluttering hands caught him; soft strong arms enfolded him convulsively.