7

Neale rode to Slingerland’s cabin twice during the ensuing fortnight, but did not note any improvement in Allie’s condition or demeanor.  The trapper, however, assured Neale that she was gradually gaining a little and taking some slight interest in things; he said that if Neale could only spend enough time there the girl might recover.  This made Neale thoughtful.

General Lodge and his staff had decided to station several engineers in camp along the line of the railroad for the purpose of studying the drift of snow.  It was important that all information possible should be obtained during the next few winters.  There would be severe hardships attached to this work, but Neale volunteered to serve, and the chief complimented him warmly.  He was to study the action of the snowdrift along Sherman Pass.

Upon his next visit to Slingerland Neale had the project soberly in mind and meant to broach it upon the first opportunity.

This morning, when Neale and King rode up to the cabin, Allie did not appear as upon the last occasion of their arrival.  Neale missed her.

Slingerland came out with his usual welcome.

“Where’s Allie?” asked Neale,

“Wal, she went in jest now.  She saw you comin’ an’ then run in to hide, I reckon.  Girls is queer critters.”

“She watched for me—­for us—­and then ran?” queried Neale, curiously.

“Wal, she ain’t done nothin’ but watch fer you since you went away last.  An’, son, thet’s a new wrinkle fer Allie, An’ run?  Wal, like a skeered deer.”

“Wonder what that means?” pondered Neale.  Whatever it meant, it sent a little tingle of pleasure along his pulses.  “Red, I want to have a serious talk with Slingerland,” he announced, thoughtfully.

“Shore; go ahaid an’ talk,” drawled the Southerner, as he slipped his saddle and turned his horse loose with a slap on the flank.  “I reckon I’ll take a gun an’ stroll off fer a while.”

Neale led the trapper aside to a shady spot under the pines and there unburdened himself of his plan for the winter.

“Son, you’ll freeze to death!” ejaculated the trapper.

“I must build a cabin, of course, and prepare for severe weather,” replied Neale.

Slingerland shook his shaggy head.  “I reckon you ain’t knowin’ these winters hyar as I know them.  But thet long ridge you call Sherman Pass—­it ain’t so fur we couldn’t get thar on snow-shoes except in the wust weather.  I reckon you can stay with me hyar.”

“Good!” exclaimed Neale.  “And now about Allie.”

“Wal, what about her?”

“Shall I leave her here or send her back to Omaha with the first caravan, or let her go to Fort Fetterman with the troops?”

“Son, she’s your charge, but I say leave her hyar, ’specially now you can be with us.  She’d die or go crazy if you sent her.  Why, she won’t even say if she’s got a livin’ relation.  I reckon she hain’t.  She’d be better hyar.  I’ve come to be fond of Allie.  She’s strange.  She’s like a spirit.  But she’s more human lately.”