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.Presently he roused himself.He had no hopes.He knew the nature of men whohaddone this deed.But it was possible that he might overtake them.In the dusthefound four sizes of boot-tracks and he took the trail down the valley.Then he became aware that a storm was imminent and that the air had becomecoldand raw.Rain began to fall, and darkness came quickly.Slingerland soughttheshelter of a near-by ledge, and there, hungry, cold, wet, and unhappy, hewaitedfor sleep that would not come.It rained hard all night and by morning the brook had become a yellow floodandthe trail was under water.Toward noon the rain turned to a drizzly snow, andfinally ceased.Slingerland passed on down the valley, searching for tracks.Theground everywhere had been washed clean and smooth.When he reached the oldSt.Vrain and Laramie Trail it looked as though a horse had not passed there inmonths.He spent another wretched night, and next day awoke to thenecessitiesof life.Except for his rifle, and his horses, and a few traps back up in thehills, he had nothing to show for years of hard and successful work.But thatdid not matter.He had begun with as little and he could begin again.Hekilledmeat, satisfied his hunger, and cooked more that he might carry with him.Thenhe spent two more days in that locality, until he had crossed every outletfromhis valley.Not striking a track, he saw nothing but defeat.That moment was bitter."If Neale'd happen along hyar now he'd killme—an' sarveme right," muttered the trapper.But he believed that Neale, too, had gone the way of so many who had bravedthese wilds.Slingerland saw in the fate of Neale and Allie the result ofcivilization marching westward.If before he had disliked the idea of therailroad entering his wild domain, he hated it now.Before that survey theIndians had been peaceful; no dangerous men rode the trails.What right hadtheGovernment to steal land from the Indians, to break treaties, to run a steamtrack across the plains and mountains? Slingerland foresaw the bloodiestPage 75ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlperiodever known in the West, before that work should be completed.It had struckhimdeep—this white-man movement across the Wyoming hills, and it was notthe lossof all he had worked for that he minded.For years his life had been lonely,andthen suddenly it had been full.Never again would it be either.Slingerland turned his back to the trail made by the advancing march of theempire-builders, and sought the seclusion of the more inaccessible hills."Some day I'll work out with a load of pelts," he said, "an' then mebbe I'llhyar what become of Neale—an' her."He found, as one of his kind knew how to find, the valleys where no white manhad trod—where the game abounded and was tame—where if the red mancame he wasfriendly—where the silent days and lonely nights slowly made morebearable hismemory of Allie Lee.12Allie Lee possessed a mind at once active and contemplative.While shedreamedof Neale and their future she busied herself with many tasks, and a wholeyearflew by without a lagging or melancholy hour.Neale, she believed, had been detained or sent back to Omaha, or given moreimportant work than formerly.She divined Slingerland's doubt, but she wouldnotgive it room in her consciousness.Her heart told her that all was well withNeale, and that sooner or later he would return to her.In Allie love had worked magic.It had freed her from a horrible blackmemory.She had been alone; she had wanted to die so as to forget those awful yellsandscreams—the murder—the blood—the terror and the anguish; shehad nothing to wantto live for; she had almost hated those two kind men who tried so hard tomakeher forget.Then suddenly, she never quite remembered when, she had seenNealewith different eyes.A few words, a touch, a gift, and a pledge—and lifehadbeen transformed for Allie Lee.Like a flower blooming overnight, her hearthadopened to love, and all the distemper in her blood and all the blackness inhermind were dispelled.The relief from pain and dread was so great that lovebecame a beautiful and all-absorbing passion.Freed then, and strangelyhappy,she took to the life around her as naturally as if she had been born there,andshe grew like a wild flower.Neale returned to her that autumn to makeperfectthe realization of her dreams.When he went away she could still be happy.Sheowed it to him to be perfect in joy, faith, love, and duty; and her adversityhad discovered to her an inward courage and an indomitable will.She livedforNeale.Summer, autumn, winter passed, short days full of solitude, beauty, thought,andPage 76ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlanticipation, and always achievement, for she could not stay idle.When thefirst green brightened the cottonwoods and willows along the brook she knewthatbefore their leaves had attained their full growth Neale would be on his waytoher.A strange and inexplicable sense of the heart told her that he wascoming.More than once that spring had she bent over the mossy rock to peer down atherface mirrored in the crystal spring.Neale had made her aware of her beauty,andshe was proud of it, since it seemed to be such a strange treasure to him.On the May morning that Slingerland left her alone she was startled by theclip-clop of horses trotting up the trail a few hours after his departure.Her first thought was that Neale and Larry had returned.All her beingsuddenlyradiated with rapture.She flew to the door.Four horsemen rode into the clearing, but Neale was not among them.Allie's joy was short-lived, and the reaction to disappointment was aviolent,agonizing wrench.She lost all control of her muscles for a moment, and hadtolean against the cabin to keep from falling.By this time the foremost rider had pulled in his horse near the door.He wasayoung giant with hulking shoulders, ruddy-faced, bold-eyed, ugly-mouthed.Hereminded Allie of some one she had seen in California.He stared hard at her."Hullo! Ain't you Durade's girl?" he asked, in gruff astonishment.Then Allie knew she had seen him out in the gold-fields."No, I'm not," she replied."A-huh! You look uncommon like her.Anybody home round here?""Slingerland went over the hill," said Allie."He'll be back presently."The fellow brushed her aside and went into the cabin.Then the other threeriders arrived."Mornin', miss," said one, a grizzled veteran, who might have been miner,trapper, or bandit.The other two reined in behind him.One wore awide-brimmedblack sombrero from under which a dark, sinister face gleamed [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]