tely washed clothes of the toilers;
and through the wide street of the camp clattered teams and swearing
teamsters, dragging plows with clanking chains and huge scoops turned
upside down. Bordering the camp, running east as far as eye could see,
stretched a high, flat, yellow lane, with the earth hollowed away from
it, so that it stood higher than the level plain--and this was the work
of the graders, the road-bed of the Union Pacific Railroad, the U. P.
Trail.

This camp appeared to be Durade's destination. His caravan rode through
and halted on the outskirts of the far side. Preparations began for what
Allie concluded was to be a permanent halt. At once began a significant
disintegration of Durade's party. One by one the scouts received payment
from their employer, and with horse and pack disappeared toward the
camp. The lean old fellow who had taken kindly interest in Allie looked
in at the opening of the canvas over her wagon, and, wishing her luck,
bade her good-by. The women likewise said good-by, informing her that
they were going on home. Not one man among those left would Allie have
trusted.

During the hurried settling of camp Durade came to Allie.

"Allie," he said, "you don't have to keep cooped up in there unless I
tell you. But don't talk to any one--and don't go that way."

He pointed toward the humming camp. "That place beats any gold-diggings
I ever saw," he concluded.

The tall, scant sage afforded Allie some little seclusion, and she
walked there until Durade called her to supper. She ate alone on a
wagon-seat, and when twilight fell she climbed into her wagon, grateful
that it was high off the ground and so inclosed her from all except
sound.

Darkness came; the fire died down; the low voices of Durade and his men,
and of callers who visited them, flowed continuously.

Then, presently, there arose a strange murmur, unlike any sound Allie
had ever heard. It swelled into a low, distant roar. She was curious
about it. Peeping out of her wagon-cover she saw where the darkness
flared to yellow with a line of lights--torches or lanterns or fires.
Crossing and re-crossing these lights were black objects, in twos and
threes and dozens. And from this direction floated the strange, low
roar. Suddenly she realized. It was the life of the camp. Hundreds and
thousands of men were there together, and as the night advanced the
low roar rose and fell, and lulled away to come again--strange, sad,
hideous, mi