“General Lodge, it was indeed a narrow shave for me,” replied another voice, low and husky.

Allie slowly sat up, with the dreamy waiting abstraction less strong.  Her father, Allison Lee, and General Lodge, Neale’s old chief, were there in the other room.

“Neale almost killed Durade!  Broke him!  Cut him all up!” said the general, with agitation.  “I had it from McDermott, one of my spikers—­a reliable man....  Neale was shot—­perhaps cut, too....  But he doesn’t seem to know it.”

Allie sprang up, transfixed and thrilling.

“Neale almost killed—­him!” echoed Allison Lee, hoarsely.  Then followed a sound of a chair falling.

“Indeed, Allison, it’s true,” broke in a strange voice.  “The street’s full of men—­all talking—­all stirred up.”

Other men entered the room.

“Is Neale here?” queried General Lodge, sharply.

“They’re trying to hold him up—­in the office.  The boys want to pat him on the back....  Durade was not liked,” replied some one.

“Is Neale badly hurt?”

“I don’t know.  He looked it.  He was all bloody.”

“Colonel Dillon, did you see Neale?” went on the sharp, eager voice.

“Yes.  He seemed dazed—­wild.  Probably badly hurt.  Yet he moved steadily.  No one could stop him,” answered another strange voice.

“Ah! here comes McDermott!” exclaimed General Lodge.  Allie’s ears throbbed to a slow, shuffling, heavy tread.  Her consciousness received the fact of Neale’s injury, but her heart refused to accept it as perilous.  God could not mock her faith by a last catastrophe.

“Sandy—­you’ve seen Neale?”

Allie loved this sharp, keen voice for its note of dread.  “Shure.  B’gorra, yez couldn’t hilp seein’ him.  He’s as big as a hill an’ his shirt’s as red as Casey’s red wan.  I wint to give him the little gun wot Durade pulled on him.  Dom’ me! he looked roight at me an’ niver seen me,” replied the Irishman.

“Lee, you will see Neale?” queried General Lodge.  There was a silence.

“No,” presently came a cold reply.  “It is not necessary.  He saved me—­injury perhaps.  I am grateful.  I’ll reward him.”

“How?” rang General Lodge’s voice.

“Gold, of course.  Neale was a gambler.  Probably he had a grudge against this Durade....  I need not meet Neale, it seems, I am somewhat—­overwrought.  I wish to spare myself further excitement.”

“Lee—­listen!” returned General Lodge, violently.  “Neale is a splendid young man—­the nerviest, best engineer I ever knew.  I predicted great things for him.  They have come true.”

“That doesn’t interest me.”

“You’ll hear it, anyhow.  He saved the life of this girl who has turned out to be your daughter.  He took care of her.  He loved her—­ was engaged to marry her....  Then he lost her.  And after that he was half mad.  It nearly ruined him.”

“I do not credit that.  It was gambling, drink—­and bad women that ruined him.”