That face had been familiar,
but he could not recall where he had ever seen it. The red, leering,
evil visage, with its prominent, hard features, grew more vivid in
memory, as Neale's mind revolved closer to discovery.
"Inside with you, Neale," yelled Baxter.
Baxter and Neale, with the four young engineers, took to the several
rooms of the log cabin, where each selected an aperture between the
logs or a window through which to fire upon the Indians. But Neale
soon ascertained that there was nothing to shoot at, outside of some
white puffs of smoke rising from behind rocks on the slope. There
was absolutely not a sign of an Indian. The graders were firing, but
Neale believed they would have done better to save their powder.
Bullets pattered against the logs; now and then a leaden pellet sang
through a window, to thud into the wall. Neale shut the heavy door
leading from the cabin into the engineers' quarters, for bullets
were ripped through from one side to the other of this canvas-and-
clapboard structure. Then Neale passed from room to room, searching
for Allie. Two of the engineers were kneeling at a chink between the
logs, aiming and firing in great excitement. Campbell had sustained
a slight wound and looked white with rage and fear. Baxter was
peeping from behind the rude jamb of a window.
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