Neale’s plans for the summer could not be wholly known until he had reported to the general staff, which might be at Fort Fetterman or North Platte or all the way back in Omaha.  But it was probable that he would be set to work with the advancing troops and trains and laborers.  Engineers had to accompany both the grading gangs and the rail gangs.

Neale, in his talks with Larry and Slingerland, had dwelt long and conjecturingly upon what life was going to be in the construction camps.

To Larry what might happen was of little moment.  He lived in the present.  But Neale was different.  He had to be anticipating events; he lived in the future, his mind was centered on future work, achievement, and what he might go through in attaining his end.  Slingerland was his appreciative listener.

“Wal,” he would say, shaking his grizzled head, “I reckon I don’t believe all your General Lodge says is goin’ to happen.”

“But, man, can’t you imagine what it will be?” protested Neale.  “Take thousands of soldiers—­the riffraff of the war—­and thousands of laborers of all classes, niggers, greasers, pigtail chinks, and Irish.  Take thousands of men who want to earn an honest dollar, but not honestly.  All the gamblers, outlaws, robbers, murderers, criminals, adventurers in the States, and perhaps many from abroad, will be on the trail.  Think, man, of the money—­the gold!  Millions spilled out in these wilds! ...  And last and worst—­the bad women!”

Slingerland showed his amazement at the pictures drawn by Neale, especially at the final one.

“Wal, I reckon thet’s all guff too,” he said.  “A lot of bad women out in these wilds ain’t to be feared.  Supposin’ thar was a lot of them which ain’t likely—­how’d they ever git out to the camps?”

“Slingerland, the trains—­the trains will follow the laying of the rails!”

“Oho!  An’ you mean thar’ll be towns grow up overnightall full of bad people who ain’t workin’ on the railroad, but jest followin’ the gold?”

“Exactly.  Now listen.  Remember all these mixed gangs—­the gold—­and the bad women—­out here in the wild country—­no law—­no restraint—­ no fear, except of death—­drinking-hells—­gambling-hells—­dancing-hells!  What’s going to happen?”

The trapper meditated a while, stroking his beard, and then he said:  “Wal, thar ain’t enough gold to build thet railroad—­an’ if thar was it couldn’t never be done!”

“Ah!” cried Neale, raising his head sharply.  “It’s a matter of gold first.  Streams of gold!  And then—­can it be done?”

One day, as the time for Neale’s departure grew closer, Slingerland’s quiet and peaceful valley was violated by a visit from four rough-looking men.

They rode in without packs.  It was significant to Neale that Larry swore at sight of them, and then in his cool, easy way sauntered between them and the cabin door, where Allie stood with astonishment fixed on her beautiful face.  The Texan always packed his heavy gun, and certainly no Western men would mistake his quality.  These visitors were civil enough, asked for a little tobacco, and showed no sign of evil intent.