Fresno! He must
have escaped from the Sioux and fallen in with Durade.
Allie shrunk from him. Durade, compared with this kind of ruffian,
was a haven of refuge. She passed on without a sign. But Fresno was
safe from her. This meeting made her aware of an impulse to run back
to Durade, instinctively, just as she had when a child. He had
ruined her mother; he had meant to make a lure of her, the daughter;
he had showed what his vengeance would be upon that mother, just as
he had showed Allie her doom should she betray him. But
notwithstanding all this, Durade was not Fresno, nor like any of
those men whose eyes seemed to burn her.
She returned to the wagon and to the several women and men attached
to it, with the assurance that there were at least some good persons
in that motley caravan crew.
The women, naturally curious and sympathetic, questioned her in one
way and another. Who was she, what had happened to her, where were
her people or friends? How had she ever escaped robbers and Indians
in that awful country? Was she really Durade's daughter?
Allie did not tell much about herself, and finally she was left in
peace.
The lean old scout who had first seen Allie as she staggered into
the trail told her it was over a hundred miles to the first camp of
the railroad-builders.
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