But where was Neale? The habits of life were all
powerful; and all her habits had been formed under Durade's magnetic
eye. Neale retreated and so did spirit, courage, hope. Love
remained, despairing, yet unquenchable.
Allie's resignation established a return to normal feelings. She ate
and grew stronger; she slept and was refreshed.
The caravan moved on about twenty-five miles a day. At the next camp
Allie tried walking again, to find her feet were bruised, her legs
cramped, and action awkward and painful. But she persevered, and the
tingling of revived circulation was like needles pricking her flesh.
She limped from one camp-fire to another; and all the rough men had
a kind word or question or glance for her. Allie did not believe
they were all honest men. Durade had employed a large force, and
apparently he had taken on every one who applied. Miners, hunters,
scouts, and men of no hall-mark except that of wildness composed the
mixed caravan. It spoke much for Durade that they were under
control. Allie well remembered hearing her mother say that he had a
genius for drawing men to him and managing them.
Once during her walk, when every one appeared busy, a big fellow
with hulking shoulders and bandaged head stepped beside her.
"Girl," he whispered, "if you want a knife slipped into Durade, tell
him about me!"
Allie recognized the whisper before she did the heated, red face
with its crooked nose and bold eyes and ugly mouth.
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