The U. P. Trail Part 55

"a.s.suredly. We see with the same eyes," said General Lodge, smiling.

"Neale, I've a job for you that will make you gray-headed."

"Hardly that," returned Neale, laughing.

"Do you remember the survey we made out here in the hills for Number Ten Bridge? Made over two years ago."

"I'm not likely to forget it."

"Well, the rails are within twenty miles of Number Ten. They'll be there presently--and no piers to cross on."

"How's that?"

"I don't know. The report came in only last night. It's a queer doc.u.ment. Here it is. Study it at your leisure.... It seems a big force of men have been working there for months. Piers have been put in--only to sink."

"Sink!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Neale. "WHEW! That's a stumper!... Chief, the survey is mine. I'll never forget how I worked on it."

"Could you have made a mistake?"

"Of course," replied Neale, readily. "But I'd never believe that unless I saw it. A tough job it was--but just the kind of work I eat up."

"Well, you can go out and eat it up some more."

"That means I'll have to camp out there. I can't get back to Benton."

"No, you can't. And isn't that just as well?" queried the chief, with his keen, dark glance on Neale. "Son, I've heard your name coupled with gamblers--and that Stanton woman."

"No doubt. I know them. I've been--seeking some trace of--Allie."

"You still hope to find her? You still imagine some of this riffraff Benton gang made off with her?"

"Yes."

"Son, it's scarcely possible," said Lodge, earnestly. "Anderson claims the Sioux got her. We all incline to that.... Oh, it's hard, Neale....

Love and life are only atoms under the iron heel of the U. P. R....

It's too late now. You can't forget--no--but you must not risk your life--your opportunities--your reputation."

Neale turned away his face for a moment and was silent. An engine whistled; a bell began to ring; some train official called to General Lodge. The chief held up his hand for a little more delay.

"I'm off," he said rapidly. "Neale, you'll go out to Number Ten and take charge."

That surprised and thrilled Neale into eagerness.

"Who are the engineers?"

"Blake and Coffee. I don't know them. Henney sent them out from Omaha.

They're well recommended. But that's no matter. Something is wrong.

You're to have full charge of engineers, bosses, masons. In fact, I've sent word out to that effect."

"Who's the contractor?" asked Neale.

"I don't know. But whoever he is he has made a pile of money out of this job. And the job's not done. That's what galls me."

"Well, chief, it will be done," said Neale, sharp with determination.

"Good! Neale, I'll start east with another load off my shoulders....

And, son, if you throw up a bridge so there'll be no delay, something temporary for the rails and the work-train, and then plan piers right for Number Ten--well--you'll hear from it, that's all." They shook hands.

"I may be gone a week or a month--I can't tell," went on the chief.

"But when I do come I'll probably have a trainload of directors, commissioners, stockholders."

"Bring them on," said Neale. "Maybe if they saw more of what we're up against they wouldn't holler so."

"Right.... Remember, you've full charge and that I trust you implicitly.

Good-by and good luck!"

The chief boarded his train as it began to move. Neale watched it leave the station, and with a swelling heart he realized that he had been placed high, that his premonition of advancement had not been without warrant.

The work-train was backing into the station and would depart westward in short order. Neale hurried to his lodgings to pack his few belongings.

Larry was lying on his cot, fully dressed and asleep. Neale shook him.

"Wake up, you lazy son-of-a-gun!" shouted Neale.

Larry opened his eyes. "Wal, what's wrong? Is it last night or to-morrow?"

"Larry, I'm off. Got charge of a big job."

"Is thet all?" drawled Larry, sleepily. "Why, sh.o.r.e I always knowed you'd be chief engineer some day."

"Pard--sit up," said Neale, unsteadily. "Will you stay sober--and watch--and listen for some news of Allie?... Till I come back to Benton?"

"Neale, air you still dreamin'?" asked Larry, incredulously.

"Will you do that much for me?"

"Sh.o.r.e."

"Thank you, old friend. Good-by now. I've got to rustle." He left Larry sitting on his cot, staring at nothing. On the way to the station Neale encountered the gambler, Place Hough, who, despite his nocturnal habits, was an early riser. In the excitement of the hour Neale gave way to an impulse. Briefly he told Hough about Allie--her disappearance and probable hidden presence in Benton, and he asked the gambler to keep his eyes and ears open. Hough seemed both surprised and pleased with the confidence, and he said he would go out of his way to help Neale.

Neale had to run to catch the train. A brawny Irishman extended a red-sleeved arm to help him up.

"Up wid yez. Thor!"

Neale found himself with bag and rifle and blanket sprawling on the gravel-covered floor of a flat car. Casey, the old lineman, grinned at him over the familiar short, black pipe.

"B'gorra, it's me ould fri'nd Neale."

"It sure is. How're you Casey?"

"Pritty good fur an ould soldier.... An' it's news I hear of yez, me boy."