“What’s wrong with your hand?” he queried.

“I reckon nawthin’.”

“Why is it bound up, then?”

“Wal, some one sent thet fool army doctor to me an’ he said I had two busted bones in it.”

“He did!  I had no idea you were hurt.  You never said a word.  And you carried me and my instrument all day—­with a broken hand!”

“Wal, I ain’t so shore it’s broke.”

Neale swore at his friend and then he fell asleep.  King watched beside him, ever and anon rewetting the hot brow.

The camp-fire died out, and at length the quietness of late night set in.  The wind mourned and lulled by intervals; a horse thudded his hoofs now and then; there were the soft, steady footsteps of the sentry on guard, and the wild cry of a night bird.

5

Neale had not been wrong when he told the engineers that once they had a line surveyed across the gorge and faced the steep slopes of the other side their troubles would be magnified.

They found themselves deeper in the Wyoming hills, a range of mountains that had given General Lodge great difficulty upon former exploring trips, and over which a pass had not yet been discovered.

The old St. Vrain and Laramie Trail wound along the base of these slopes and through the valleys.  But that trail was not possible for a railroad.  A pass must be found—­a pass that would give a grade of ninety feet to the mile.  These mountains had short slopes, and they were high.

It turned out that the line as already surveyed through ravines and across the gorge had to be abandoned.  The line would have to go over the hills.  To that end the camp was moved east again to the first slopes of the Wyoming hills; from there the engineers began to climb.  They reached the base of the mountains, where they appeared to be halted for good and all.

The second line, so far as it went, overlooked the Laramie Trail, which fact was proof that the old trail-finders had as keen eyes as engineers.

With a large band of hostile Sioux watching their movements the engineer corps found it necessary to have the troops close at hand all the time.  The surveyors climbed the ridges while the soldiers kept them in sight from below.  Day after day this futile search for a pass went on.  Many of the ridges promised well, only to end in impassable cliffs or breaks or ascents too steep.  There were many slopes and they all looked alike.  It took hard riding and hard climbing.  The chief and his staff were in despair.  Must their great project fail because of a few miles of steep ascent?  They would not give up.

The vicinity of Cheyenne Pass seemed to offer encouragement.  Camp was made in the valley on a creek.  From here observations were taken.  One morning the chief, with his subordinates and a scout, ascended the creek and then through the pass to the summit.  Again the old St. Vrain and Laramie Trail lay in sight.  And again the troops rode along it, with the engineers above.