It had struck him deep--this white-man movement across the Wyoming
hills, and it was not the loss of all he had worked for that he
minded. For years his life had been lonely, and then suddenly it had
been full. Never again would it be either.
Slingerland turned his back to the trail made by the advancing march
of the empire-builders, and sought the seclusion of the more
inaccessible hills.
"Some day I'll work out with a load of pelts," he said, "an' then
mebbe I'll hyar what become of Neale--an' her."
He found, as one of his kind knew how to find, the valleys where no
white man had trod--where the game abounded and was tame--where if
the red man came he was friendly--where the silent days and lonely
nights slowly made more bearable his memory of Allie Lee.
12
Allie Lee possessed a mind at once active and contemplative. While
she dreamed of Neale and their future she busied herself with many
tasks, and a whole year flew by without a lagging or melancholy
hour.
Neale, she believed, had been detained or sent back to Omaha, or
given more important work than formerly. She divined Slingerland's
doubt, but she would not give it room in her consciousness. Her
heart told her that all was well with Neale, and that sooner or
later he would return to her.
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