"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.
"Shore. We've had soldiers campin' around aboot all heah."
"Soldiers!" ejaculated one of the gang.
"Shore, 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.
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