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Neale slept in a tent, and when he was suddenly awakened it was brightdaylight. His ears vibrated to a piercing blast. For an instant he couldnot distinguish the sound. But when it ceased he knew it had been aringing bugle-call. Following that came the voices and movements ofexcited troopers.
He rolled from his blankets to get into boots and coat and rush out. Thetroopers appeared all around him in hurried orderly action. Neale askeda soldier what was up.
"Redskins, b'gorra--before brikfast!" was the disgusted reply.
Neale thought of Allie and his heart contracted. A swift glance on allsides, however, failed to see any evidence of attack on the camp.He espied General Lodge and Colonel Dillon among a group before theengineers' quarters. Neale hurried up.
"Good morning, Neale," said the chief, grimly. "You're back on the job,all right."
And Colonel Dillon added, "A little action to celebrate your return,Neale!"
"What's happened?" queried Neale, shortly.
"We just got a telegraph message: 'Big force--Sioux.' That's all. Theoperator says the wire was cut in the middle of the message."
"Big force--Sioux!" repeated Neale. "Between here and Benton?"
"Of course. We sent a scout on horseback down along the line."
"Neale, you'll find guns inside. Help yourself," said General Lodge."You'll take breakfast with us in the cabin. We don't know what's upyet. But it looks bad for us--having the women here. This cabin is nofort."
"General, we can have all those railroad ties hustled here and throw updefenses," suggested the officer.
"That's a good idea. But the troopers will have to carry them. Thatwork-train won't get out here today."
"It's not likely. But we can use the graders from the camp up theline... Neale, go in and get guns and a bite to eat. I'll have a horsehere ready for you. I want you to ride out after those graders."
"All right," replied Neale, rapidly. "Have you told--Do the women knowyet what's up?"
"Yes. And that girl of yours has nerve. Hurry, Neale."
Neale rode away on his urgent errand without having seen Allie. Hisorders had been to run the horse. It was some distance to the nextgrading camp--how far he did not know. And the possibility of his returnbeing cut off by Indians had quickened Neale into a realization of thegrave nature of the situation.
He had difficulty climbing down and up the gorge, but, once across it,there was the graded road-bed, leading straight to the next camp. Thisroad-bed was soft, and not easy going for a horse. Neale found betterground along the line, on hard ground, and here he urged the fresh horseto a swift and steady gait.
The distance was farther than he had imagined, and probably exceeded tenmiles. He rode at a gallop through a wagontrain camp, which, from itsquiet looks, was not connected with the work on the railroad, straighton into the midst of two hundred or more graders just about to begin theday's work. His advent called a halt to everything. Sharply and brieflyNeale communicated the orders given him. Then he wheeled his horse forthe return trip.
When he galloped through the wagon-train camp several rough-appearingmen hailed him curiously.
"Indians!" yelled Neale, as he swept on.
He glanced back once to see a tall, dark-faced man wearing a frock-coatspeak to the others and then wildly fling out his arms.
It was down-hill on the way back, and the horse, now thoroughly heatedand excited, ran his swiftest. Far down the line Neale saw columns ofsmoke rolling upward. They appeared farther on than his camp, yet theycaused him apprehension. His cheek blanched at the thought that the campcontaining Allie Lee might be surrounded by Indians. His fears, however,were groundless, for soon he saw the white tents and the cabins, withthe smoke columns rising far below.
Neale rode into camp from the west in time to see Dillon's scoutgalloping hard up from the east. Neale dismounted before the waitingofficers to give his report.
"Good!" replied Dillon. "You certainly made time. We can figure on thosegraders in an hour or so?"
"Yes. There were horses enough for half the gang," answered Neale.
"Now for Anderson's report," muttered the officer.
Anderson was the scout. He rode up on a foam-lashed mustang, and gotoff, dark and grimy with dust. His report was that he had been unableto get in touch with any soldiers or laborers along the line, but he hadseen enough with his own eyes. Half-way between the camp and Bentona large force of Sioux had torn up the track, halted and fired thework-train. A desperate battle was being fought, with the odds againstthe workmen, for the reason that the train of box-cars was burning.Troops must be rushed to the rescue.
Colonel Dillon sent a trooper with orders to saddle the horses.
This sent a cold chill through Neale. "General, if the Sioux rounded usup here in this camp we'd be hard put to it," he said, forcibly.
"Right you are, Neale. The high slopes, rocks, and trees would affordcover. Whoever picked out this location for a camp wasn't thinking ofIndians... But we need scarcely expect an attack here."
"Suppose we get the women away--to the hills," suggested Neale.
Anderson shook his head. "They might be worse off. Here you've shelter,water, food, and men coming. That's a big force of Sioux. They'll havelookouts on all the hills."
It was decided to leave a detachment of soldiers under Lieutenant Brady,who was to remain in camp until the arrival of the graders, and thenfollow hard on Colonel Dillon's trail.
Besides Allie Lee there were five other women in camp, and they all cameout to see the troops ride away. Neale heard Colonel Dillon assure hiswife that he did not think there was any danger. But the color failedto return to her face. The other women, excepting Allie, were plainlyfrightened. Neale found new pride in Allie. She showed little fear ofthe Sioux.
General Lodge rode beside Colonel Dillon at the head of the troops. Theyleft camp on a trot, raising a cloud of dust, and quickly disappearedround the curve of the hill. The troopers who were left behind stackedtheir guns and sallied out after railroad ties with which to builddefenses. Anderson, the scout, rode up the slope to a secluded pointfrom which he was to keep watch. The women were instructed to stayinside the log cabin that adjoined the flimsy quarters of the engineers.Baxter, with his assistants, overhauled the guns and ammunition left;and Neale gathered up all the maps and plans and drawings and put themin a bag close at hand.
Time passed swiftly, and in another half-hour the graders began toarrive. They came riding in bareback, sometimes two on one horse,flourishing their guns--a hundred or more red-faced Irishmen spoilingfor a fight. Their advent eased Neale's dread. Still, a strange feelingweighed upon him and he could not understand it or shake it. He had nooptimism for the moment. He judged it to be over-emotion, a selfish andrather exaggerated fear for Allie's safety.
Lieutenant Brady then departed with his soldiers, leaving the noisylaborers to carry ties and erect bulwarks. The Irish, as ever, growledand voiced their complaints at finding work instead of fighting.
"Hurry an' fetch on yez dirn Sooz!" was the cry sent after Brady, andthat request voiced the spirit of the gang.
In an hour they had piled a fence of railroad ties, six feet high,around the engineers' quarters. This task had scarcely been done whenAnderson was discovered riding recklessly down the slope. Baxter threwup his hands.
"We're going to have it," he said. "Neale, I'm not so young as I was."
Anderson rode in behind the barricade and dismounted. "Sioux!"
The graders greeted this information with loud hurrahs. But whenAnderson pointed out a large band of Sioux filing down from the hilltopthe enthusiasm was somewhat checked. It was the largest hostile forceof Sioux that Neale had ever seen. The sight of the lean, wild figuresstirred Neale's blood, and then again sent that cold chill over him.The Indians rode down the higher slope and turned off at the edge ofthe timber out of rifle-range. Here they got off their mustangs andapparently held a council. Neale plainly saw a befeathered chieftainpoint with long arm. T
hen the band moved, disintegrated, and presentlyseemed to have melted into the ground.
"Men, we're in for a siege!" yelled old Baxter.
At this juncture the women came running out, badly frightened.
"The Indians! The Indians!" cried Mrs. Dillon. "We saw them--behind thecabin--creeping down through the rocks."
"Get inside--stay in the cabin!" ordered Baxter.
Allie was the last one crowded in. Neale, as he half forced her inside,was struck with a sudden wild change in her expression.
"There! There!" she whispered, trying to point.
Just then rifle-shots and the spattering of bullets made quick workurgent.
"Go--get inside the log walls," said Neale, as he shoved Allie in.
Excitement prevailed among the graders. They began to run under cover ofthe inclosure and some began to shoot aimlessly.
"Anderson, take some men! Go to the back of the cabin!" shouted Baxter.
The scout called for men to follow him and ran out. So many of thegraders essayed to follow that they blocked the narrow opening betweenthe inclosure and house. Suddenly one of them in the rear sheered roundso that he looked at Neale. It was but a momentary glance, but Nealesensed recognition there. Then the man was gone and Neale sustained astrange surprise. That face had been familiar, but he could not recallwhere he had ever seen it. The red, leering, evil visage, with itsprominent, hard features, grew more vivid in memory, as Neale's mindrevolved closer to discovery.
"Inside with you, Neale," yelled Baxter.
Baxter and Neale, with the four young engineers, took to the severalrooms of the log cabin, where each selected an aperture between thelogs or a window through which to fire upon the Indians. But Neale soonascertained that there was nothing to shoot at, outside of somewhite puffs of smoke rising from behind rocks on the slope. There wasabsolutely not a sign of an Indian. The graders were firing, but Nealebelieved they would have done better to save their powder. Bulletspattered against the logs; now and then a leaden pellet sang through awindow, to thud into the wall. Neale shut the heavy door leading fromthe cabin into the engineers' quarters, for bullets were ripped throughfrom one side to the other of this canvas-and-clapboard structure.Then Neale passed from room to room, searching for Allie. Two of theengineers were kneeling at a chink between the logs, aiming and firingin great excitement. Campbell had sustained a slight wound and lookedwhite with rage and fear. Baxter was peeping from behind the rude jambof a window.
"Nothin' to shoot at, boy," he said, in exasperation.
"Wait. Listen to that bunch of Irish shoot. They're wasting powder."
"We've plenty of ammunition. Let 'em shoot. They may not hit anyredskins, but they'll scare 'em."
"We can hold out here--if the troopers hurry back," said Neale.
"Sure. But maybe they're hard at it, too. I've no hope this is the samebunch of Sioux that held up the work-train."
"Neither have I. And if the troops don't get here before dark--"
Neale halted, and Baxter shook his gray head.
"That would be bad," he said. "But we've squeezed out of narrow placesbefore, buildin' this U. P. R."
Neale found the women in the large room, between the corner of the wallsand a huge stone fireplace. They were quiet. Allie leaped at sight ofNeale. Her hands trembled as she grasped him.
"Neale!" she whispered. "I saw Fresno!"
"Who's he?" queried Neale, blankly.
"He's one of Durade's gang."
"No!" exclaimed Neale. He drew Allie aside. "You're scared."
"I'd never forget Fresno," she replied, positively. "He was one of thefour ruffians who burned Slingerland's cabin and made off with me."
Then Neale shook with a violent start. He grasped Allie tight.
"I saw him, too. Just before I came in. I saw one of the men thatvisited us at Slingerland's.... Big, hulking fellow--red, ugly face--badlook."
"That's Fresno. He and the gang must have been camped with those gradersyou brought here. Oh, I'm more afraid of Fresno's gang than of theIndians."
"But Allie--they don't know you're here. You're safe. The troops will beback soon, and drive these Indians away."
Allie clung to Neale, and again he felt something of the terror theseruffians had inspired in her. He reassured her, assuming a confidencehe was far from feeling, and cautioned her to stay in that protectedcorner. Then he went in the other room to his station. It angered Neale,and alarmed him, that another peril perhaps menaced Allie. And he prayedfor the return of the troops.
The day passed swiftly, in intense watchfulness on the part of thedefenders, and in a waiting game on the part of the besiegers. Theykept up a desultory firing all afternoon. Now and then a reckless graderrunning from post to post drew a volley from the Sioux; and likewisesomething that looked like an Indian would call forth shots from thedefenses. But there was no real fighting.
It developed that the Sioux were waiting for night. A fiery arrow,speeding from a bow in the twilight, left a curve of sparks in the air,like a falling rocket. It appeared to be a signal for demoniacal yellson all sides. Rifle-shots ceased to come from the slopes. As darknessfell gleams of little fires shot up from all around. The Sioux werepreparing to shoot volleys of burning arrows down into the camp.
Anderson hurried in to consult with Baxter. "We're surrounded," hesaid, tersely. "The redskins are goin' to try burnin' us out. We're in amighty tight place."
"What's to be done?" asked Baxter.
Anderson shook his head.
On the instant there was a dull spat of an object striking the roof overtheir heads. This sound was followed by a long, shrill yell.
"That was a burnin' arrow," declared Anderson.
The men, as of one accord, ran out through the engineers' quarters tothe open. It was now dark. Little fires dotted the hillsides. A dull redspeck, like an ember, showed over the roof, darkened, and disappeared.Then a streak of fire shot out from the black slope and sped on clearover the camp.
"Sooner or later they'll make a go of that," muttered Anderson.
Neale heard the scout's horse, that had been left there in theinclosure.
"Anderson, suppose I jump your horse. It's dark as pitch. I could runthrough--reach the troops. I'll take a chance."
"I had that idee myself," replied Anderson. "But it seems to me if themtroopers wasn't havin' hell they'd been here long ago. I'm lookin' forthem every minnit. They'll come. An' we've got to fight fire now tillthey get here."
"But there's no fire yet," said Baxter.
"There will be," replied Anderson. "But mebbe we can put it out as fastas they start it. Plenty of water here. An' it's dark. What I'm afraidof is they'll fire the tents out there, an' then it 'll be light as day.We can't risk climbin' over the roofs."
"Neale, go inside--call the boys out," said Baxter.
Neale had to feel his way through the rooms. He called to his comrades,and then to the women to keep up their courage--that surely the troopswould soon return.
When he went out again the air appeared full of fiery streaks. Shoutsof the graders defiantly answered the yells of the savages. Showers ofsparks were dropping upon the camp. The Sioux had ceased shooting theirrifles for the present, and, judging from their yells, they had crawleddown closer under the cover of night.
Presently a bright light flared up outside of the inclosure. One of thetents had caught fire. The Indians yelled triumphantly. Neale and hiscompanions crouched back in the shadow. The burning tent set fire to thetent adjoining. They blazed up like paper, lighting the camp and slopes.But not an Indian was visible. They stopped yelling. Then Neale heardthe thudding of arrows. Almost at once the roof of the engineers'quarters, which was merely strips of canvas over a wooden frame, burstinto flames. In a single moment the roof of the cabin was blazing. Moretents ignited, flared up, and the scene became almost as light as day.Rifles again began to crack. The crafty Indians poured a hail of bulletsinto the inclosure and the walls of the buildings. Still not an Indianwas visi
ble for the defenders to shoot at.
Anderson, Neale, and Baxter were in grim consultation. They agreed onthe scout's dictum: "Reckon the game's up. Hustle the women out."
Neale crawled along the inclosure to the opening. On that side of thebuildings there was dark shadow. But it was lifting. He ran along thewall, and he heard the whistle of bullets. Back of the cabin the Indiansappeared to have gathered in force. Neale got to the corner and peeredround. The blazing tents lighted up this end. He saw the graders breakand run, some on his side of the cabin. He clambered in. A door ofthis room was open, and through it Neale saw the roof of the engineers'quarters blazing. He heard the women screaming. Evidently they too wererunning out to the in-closure. Neale hurried into the room where he hadleft Allie. He called. There was no answer, but a growing roar outsideapparently drowned his voice. It was dark in this room. He felt alongthe wall, the fireplace, the corner. Allie was not there. The room wasempty. His hands groping low along the floor came in contact with thebag he had left in Allie's charge. It contained the papers he hadtaken the precaution to save. Probably in her flight to escape from theburning cabin she had dropped it. But that was not like Allie: she wouldhave clung to the bag while strength and sense were hers. Perhaps shehad not gotten out of the cabin. Neale searched again, growing more andmore aware of the strife outside. He heard the crackling of wood overhis head. Evidently the cabin was burning like tinder. There were menin the back room, fighting, yelling, crowding. Neale could see only dim,burly forms and the flashes of guns. Smoke floated thickly there. Someone, on the inside or outside, was beating out the door with an axe.
He decided quickly that whatever Allie might have done she would nothave gone into that room. He retraced his steps, groping, feelingeverywhere in the dark.
Suddenly the crackling, the shots, the yells ceased, or were drowned ina volume of greater sound. Neale ran to the window. The flare from theburning tents was dying down. But into the edge of the circle of lighthe saw loom a line of horsemen.
"Troopers!" he cried, joyfully. A great black pressing weight seemedlifted off his mind. The troops would soon rout that band of sneakingSioux.
Neale ran to the back room, where, above the din outside, he madehimself heard. But for all he could see or hear his tidings of rescuedid not at once affect the men there. Then he forgot them and the fightoutside in his search for Allie. The cabin was on fire, and he did notmean to leave it until he was absolutely sure she was not hidden orlying in a faint in some corner. And he had not made sure of that untilthe burning roof began to fall in. Then he leaped out the window and ranback to the inclosure.
The blaze here was no longer bright, but Neale could see distinctly.Some of the piles of ties were burning. The heat had begun to drive themen out. Troopers were everywhere. And it appeared the rattle of rifleswas receding up the valley. The Sioux had retreated.
Here Neale continued his search for Allie. He found Mrs. Dillon and hercompanions, but Allie was not with them. All he could learn from thefrightened women was that Allie had been in their company when theystarted to run from the cabin. They had not seen her since.
Still Neale did not despair, though his heart sank. Allie was hidingsomewhere. Frantically he searched the inclosure, questioned every manhe met, rushed back to the burning cabin, where the fire drove him out.But there was no trace of Allie.
Then the conviction of calamity settled upon him. While the cabinburned, and the troopers and graders watched, Neale now searched for theface of the man he had recognized--the ruffian Allie called Fresno. Thissearch was likewise fruitless.
The following hours were a hideous, slow nightmare for Neale. He hadleft one hope--that daylight would disclose Allie somewhere.
Day eventually dawned. It disclosed many facts. The Sioux had departed,and if they had suffered any loss there was no evidence of it. Theengineers' quarters, cabin, and tents had burned to the ground.Utensils, bedding, food, grain, tools, and instruments--everythingof value except the papers Neale had saved--had gone up in smoke. Thetroopers who had rescued the work-train must now depend upon that trainfor new supplies. Many of the graders had been wounded, some seriously,but none fatally. Nine of them were missing, as was Allie Lee.
The blow was terrible for Neale. Yet he did not sink under it. He didnot consider the opinion of his sympathetic friends that Allie hadwildly run out of the burning cabin to fall into the hands of the Sioux.He returned with the graders to their camp; and it was no surprise tohim to find the wagon-train, that had tarried near, gone in the night.He trailed that wagon-train to the next camp, where on the busy roadhe lost the wheel-tracks. Next day he rode horseback all the way into Benton. But all his hunting and questioning availed nothing. Gloom,heartsickness, and despair surged in upon him, but he did not think ofgiving up. He remembered all Allie had told him. Those fiends hadgotten her again. He believed now all that she had said; and there wassomething of hope in the thought that if Durade had found her again shewould at least not be at the mercy of ruffians like Fresno. But this wasa forlorn hope. Still, it upheld Neale and determined him to seek herduring the time in which his work did not occupy him.
And thus it came about that Neale plodded through his work along theline during the day, and late in the afternoon rode back with thelaborers to Benton. If Allie Lee lived she must be in Benton.