“Did Neale send anything else?” she flashed.

“Wal, yes, an’ I was comin’ to thet,” replied Slingerland, as he unlaced the front of his hunting-frock.  Presently he drew forth a little leather note-book, which he handed to Allie.  She took it while looking up at him.  Never had she seen his face radiate such strange emotion.  She divined it to be the supreme happiness inherent in the power to give happiness.

Allie trembled.  She opened the little book.  Surely it would contain a message that would be as sweet as life to dying eyes.  She read a name, written in ink, in a clear script:  “Beauty Stanton.”

Her pulses ceased to beat, her blood to flow, her heart to throb.  All seemed to freeze within her except her mind.  And that leaped fearfully over the first lines of a letter—­then feverishly on to the close—­only to fly back and read again.  Then she dropped the book.  She hid her face on Slingerland’s breast.  She clutched him with frantic hands.  She clung there, her body all held rigid, as if some extraordinary strength or inspiration or joy had suddenly inhibited weakness.

“Wal, lass, hyar you’re takin’ it powerful hard—­an’ I made sure—­”

“Hush!” whispered Allie, raising her face.  She kissed him.  Then she sprang up like a bent sapling released.  She met Slingerland’s keen gaze—­saw him start—­then rise as if the better to meet a shock.

“I am going back West with you,” she said, coolly.

“Wal, I knowed you’d go.”

“Divide that gold.  I’ll leave half for my father.”  Slingerland’s great hands began to pull at the pack.

“Thar’s a train soon.  I calkilated to stay over a day.  But the sooner the better....  Lass, will you run off or tell him?”

“I’ll tell him.  He can’t stop me, even if he would....  The gold will save him from ruin....He will let me go.”

She stooped to pick up the little leather note-book and placed it in her bosom.  Her heart seemed to surge against it.  The great river rolled on—­rolled on—­magnified in her sight.  A thick, rich, beautiful light shone under the trees.  What was this dance of her blood while she seemed so calm, so cool, so sure?

“Does he have any idea—­that I might return to him?” she asked.

“None, lass, none!  Thet I’ll swear,” declared Slingerland.  “When I left him at Roarin’ City the other day he was—­wal, like he used to be.  The boy come out in him again, not jest the same, but brave.  Sendin’ thet gold an’ thet little book made him happy....  I reckon Neale found his soul then.  An’ he never expects to see you again in this hyar world.”

35

Building a railroad grew to be an exact and wonderful science with the men of the Union Pacific, from engineers down to the laborers who ballasted and smoothed the road-bed.