"
"How's that?"
"I don't know. The report came in only last night. It's a queer
document. Here it is. Study it at your leisure.... It seems a big
force of men have been working there for months. Piers have been put
in--only to sink."
"Sink!" ejaculated Neale. "WHEW! That's a stumper! ... Chief, the
survey is mine. I'll never forget how I worked on it."
"Could you have made a mistake?"
"Of course," replied Neale, readily. "But I'd never believe that
unless I saw it. A tough job it was--but just the kind of work I eat
up."
"Well, you can go out and eat it up some more."
"That means I'll have to camp out there. I can't get back to
Benton."
"No, you can't. And isn't that just as well?" queried the chief,
with his keen, dark glance on Neale. "Son, I've heard your name
coupled with gamblers--and that Stanton woman."
"No doubt. I know them. I've been--seeking some trace of--Allie."
"You still hope to find her? You still imagine some of this riffraff
Benton gang made off with her?"
"Yes."
"Son, it's scarcely possible," said Lodge, earnestly. "Anderson
claims the Sioux got her. We all incline to that.... Oh, it's hard,
Neale.... Love and life are only atoms under the iron heel of the U.
P. R.... It's too late now. You can't forget--no--but you must not
risk your life--your opportunities--your reputation.
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