The evil presentiments that had haunted him for months had not been
groundless fancies. Perhaps Allie had called to him again, in
another hour of calamity, and this time he had not responded. She
was gone! That idea struck him cold. It meant the most dreadful of
all happenings. For a while he lay there, prostrate under the shock.
He was dimly aware of Larry's coming and sitting down beside him.
"No sign of any one," he said, huskily. "Not even a track! ... Thet
fire must hev been about two weeks ago. Mebbe more, but not much.
There's been a big rain an' the ground's all washed clean an' smooth
... Not a track!"
It was the cowboy's habit to calculate the past movements of people
and horses by the nature of the tracks they left.
Then Neale awoke to violence. He sprang up and rushed to the ruins
of the cabin, frantically tore and dug around the burnt embers, and
did not leave off until he had overhauled the whole pile. There was
nothing but ashes and embers. Whereupon he ran to the empty corrals,
to the sheds, to the wood-pile, to the spring, and all around the
space once so habitable. There was nothing to reward his fierce
energy--nothing to scrutinize. Already grass was springing in the
trails and upon spots that had once been bare.
Neale halted, sweating, hot, wild, before his friend.
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