Still Neale did not despair, though his heart sank. Allie was hiding
somewhere. Frantically he searched the inclosure, questioned every
man he met, rushed back to the burning cabin, where the fire drove
him out. But there was no trace of Allie.
Then the conviction of calamity settled upon him. While the cabin
burned, and the troopers and graders watched, Neale now searched for
the face of the man he had recognized--the ruffian Allie called
Fresno. This search was likewise fruitless.
The following hours were a hideous, slow nightmare for Neale. He had
left one hope--that daylight would disclose Allie somewhere.
Day eventually dawned. It disclosed many facts. The Sioux had
departed, and if they had suffered any loss there was no evidence of
it. The engineers' quarters, cabin, and tents had burned to the
ground. Utensils, bedding, food, grain, tools, and instruments--
everything of value except the papers Neale had saved--had gone up
in smoke. The troopers who had rescued the work-train must now
depend upon that train for new supplies. Many of the graders had
been wounded, some seriously, but none fatally. Nine of them were
missing, as was Allie Lee.
The blow was terrible for Neale. Yet he did not sink under it. He
did not consider the opinion of his sympathetic friends that Allie
had wildly run out of the burning cabin to fall into the hands of
the Sioux.
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