“General, we can have all those railroad ties hustled here and throw up defenses,” suggested the officer.

“That’s a good idea.  But the troopers will have to carry them.  That work-train won’t get out here today.”

“It’s not likely.  But we can use the graders from the camp up the line...  Neale, go in and get guns and a bite to eat.  I’ll have a horse here ready for you.  I want you to ride out after those graders.”

“All right,” replied Neale, rapidly.  “Have you told—­Do the women know yet what’s up?”

“Yes.  And that girl of yours has nerve.  Hurry, Neale.”

Neale rode away on his urgent errand without having seen Allie.  His orders had been to run the horse.  It was some distance to the next grading camp—­how far he did not know.  And the possibility of his return being cut off by Indians had quickened Neale into a realization of the grave nature of the situation.

He had difficulty climbing down and up the gorge, but, once across it, there was the graded road-bed, leading straight to the next camp.  This road-bed was soft, and not easy going for a horse.  Neale found better ground along the line, on hard ground, and here he urged the fresh horse to a swift and steady gait.

The distance was farther than he had imagined, and probably exceeded ten miles.  He rode at a gallop through a wagontrain camp, which, from its quiet looks, was not connected with the work on the railroad, straight on into the midst of two hundred or more graders just about to begin the day’s work.  His advent called a halt to everything.  Sharply and briefly Neale communicated the orders given him.  Then he wheeled his horse for the return trip.

When he galloped through the wagon-train camp several rough-appearing men hailed him curiously.

“Indians!” yelled Neale, as he swept on.

He glanced back once to see a tall, dark-faced man wearing a frock-coat speak to the others and then wildly fling out his arms.

It was down-hill on the way back, and the horse, now thoroughly heated and excited, ran his swiftest.  Far down the line Neale saw columns of smoke rolling upward.  They appeared farther on than his camp, yet they caused him apprehension.  His cheek blanched at the thought that the camp containing Allie Lee might be surrounded by Indians.  His fears, however, were groundless, for soon he saw the white tents and the cabins, with the smoke columns rising far below.

Neale rode into camp from the west in time to see Dillon’s scout galloping hard up from the east.  Neale dismounted before the waiting officers to give his report.

“Good!” replied Dillon.  “You certainly made time.  We can figure on those graders in an hour or so?”

“Yes.  There were horses enough for half the gang,” answered Neale.

“Now for Anderson’s report,” muttered the officer.