Bordering the camp, running east as far
as eye could see, stretched a high, flat, yellow lane, with the
earth hollowed away from it, so that it stood higher than the level
plain--and this was the work of the graders, the road-bed of the
Union Pacific Railroad, the U. P. Trail.
This camp appeared to be Durade's destination. His caravan rode
through and halted on the outskirts of the far side. Preparations
began for what Allie concluded was to be a permanent halt. At once
began a significant disintegration of Durade's party. One by one the
scouts received payment from their employer, and with horse and pack
disappeared toward the camp. The lean old fellow who had taken
kindly interest in Allie looked in at the opening of the canvas over
her wagon, and, wishing her luck, bade her good-by. The women
likewise said good-by, informing her that they were going on home.
Not one man among those left would Allie have trusted.
During the hurried settling of camp Durade came to Allie.
"Allie," he said, "you don't have to keep cooped up in there unless
I tell you. But don't talk to any one--and don't go that way."
He pointed toward the humming camp. "That place beats any gold-
diggings I ever saw," he concluded.
The tall, scant sage afforded Allie some little seclusion, and she
walked there until Durade called her to supper.
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