Neale and King
used up all their scant supply of food, threw away all their outfit
except a bag of salt, and went on, living on the meat they shot.
Then one day, unexpectedly, they came upon two trappers by a beaver-
dam. Neale was overcome by his emotion; he sensed that from these
men he would learn something. The first look from them told him that
his errand was known.
"Howdy!" greeted Larry. "It shore is good to see you men--the fust
we've come on in an awful hunt through these heah hills."
"Thar ain't any doubt thet you look it, friend," replied one of the
trappers.
"We're huntin' fer Slingerland. Do you happen to know him?"
"Knowed Al fer years. He went through hyar a week ago--jest after
the big rain, wasn't it, Bill?"
"Wal, to be exact it was eight days ago," replied the comrade Bill.
"Was--he--alone?" asked Larry, thickly.
"Sure, an' lookin' sick. He lost his girl not long since, he said,
an' it broke him bad."
"Lost her! How?"
"Wal, he was sure it wasn't redskins," rejoined the trapper,
reflectively. "Slingerland stood in with the Sioux--traded with 'em.
He--"
"Tell me quick!" hoarsely interrupted Neale. "What happened to Allie
Lee?"
"Fellars, my pard heah is hurt deep," said Larry. "The girl you
spoke of was his sweetheart.
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