A massacre had occurred out on the western end of
the road, where the construction gangs were working. Day after day
the Sioux had prowled around without attacking, until the hardy and
reckless laborers lost fear and caution. Then, one day, a grading
gang working a mile from the troops was set upon by a band of
swiftly riding warriors, and before they could raise a gun in
defense were killed and scalped in their tracks.
Allie read on. She devoured the news. Manifestly the world was
awakening to the reality of the great railroad. How glad Neale must
be! Always he had believed in the greatness and the reality of the
U. P. R. Somewhere along that line he was working--perhaps every
night he rode into Benton. Her emotions overwhelmed her as she
thought of him so near, and for a moment she could not see the
print. Neale would never again believe she was dead. And indeed she
did live! She breathed--she was well, strong, palpitating. She was
sitting here in Benton, reading about the building of the railroad.
She wondered with a pang what her disappearance would mean to Neale.
He had said his life would be over if he lost her again. She
shivered.
Suddenly her eye rested on printed letters, familiar and startling.
Allison Lee!
"Allison Lee!" she breathed, very low.
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