“Wal, I heerd what a tough place this heah Benton was—­so I jest come.”

Larry ended this speech lamely, but the way he hitched at his belt was conclusive.

“Wal, by Gawd!  Look who’s heah!” he suddenly exclaimed.

Neale wheeled with a start.  He saw a scout, in buckskin, a tall form with the stride of a mountaineer, strangely familiar.

“Slingerland!” he cried.

The trapper bounded at them, his tanned face glowing, his gray eyes glad.

“Boys, it’s come at last!  I knowed I’d run into you some day,” he said, and he gripped them with horny hands.

Neale tried to speak, but a terrible cramp in his throat choked him.  He appealed with his hands to Slingerland.  The trapper lost his smile and the iron set returned to his features.

Larry choked over his utterance.  “Al-lie!  What aboot—­her?”

“Boys, it’s broke me down!” replied Slingerland, hoarsely.  “I swear to you I never left Allie alone fer a year—­an’ then—­the fust time —­when she made me go—­I come back an’ finds the cabin burnt....  She’s gone!  Gone! ...  No redskin job.  That damned riffraff out of Californy.  I tracked ’em.  Then a hell of a storm comes up.  No tracks left!  All’s lost!  An’ I goes back to my traps in the mountains.”

“What—­became—­of—­her?” whispered Neale.

Slingerland looked away from him.

“Son!  You remember Allie.  She’d die, quick! ...  Wouldn’t she, Larry?”

“Shore.  Thet girl—­couldn’t—­hev lived a day,” replied Larry, thickly.

Neale plunged blindly away from his friends.  Then the torture in his breast seemed to burst.  The sobs came, heavy, racking.  He sank upon a box and bowed his head.  There Larry and Slingerland found him.

The cowboy looked down with helpless pain.  “Aw, pard—­don’t take it —­so hard,” he implored.

But he knew and Slingerland knew that sympathy could do no good here.  There was no hope, no help.  Neale was stricken.  They stood there, the elder man looking all the sadness and inevitableness of that wild life, and the younger, the cowboy, slowly changing to iron.

“Slingerland, you-all said some Californy outfit got Allie?” he queried.

“I’m sure an’ sartin,” replied the trapper.  “Them days there wasn’t any travelin’ west, so early after winter.  You recollect them four bandits as rode in on us one day?  They was from Californy.”

“Wal, I’ll be lookin’ fer men with thet Californy brand,” drawled King, and in his slow, easy, cool speech there was a note deadly and terrible.

Neale slowly ceased his sobbing.  “My nerve’s gone,” he said, shakily.

“No.  It jest broke you all up to see Slingerland.  An’ it shore did me, too,” replied Larry.

“It’s hard, but—­” Slingerland could not finish his thought.

“Slingerland, I’m glad to see you, even if it did cut me,” said Neale, more rationally.  “I’m surprised, too.  Are you here with a load of pelts?”