thet won't make a dam' bit of difference," replied Larry,
seriously.

Whereupon Neale soberly bade his friend good-bye and boarded the train.

The ride appeared slow and long, dragged out by innumerable stops. All
along the line laborers awaited the train to unload supplies. At the end
of the line there was a congestion Neale had not observed before in all
the work. Freight-cars, loaded with stone and iron beams and girders
for bridge-work, piles of ties and piles of rails, and gangs of idle
men attested to the delay caused by an obstacle to progress. The sight
aggressively stimulated Neale. He felt very curious to learn the cause
of the setback, and his old scorn of difficulties flashed up.

The camp Neale's guide led him to was back some distance from the
construction work. It stood in a little valley through which ran a
stream. There was one large building, low and flat, made of boards and
canvas, adjoining a substantial old log cabin; and clustered around,
though not close together, were a considerable number of tents. Troopers
were in evidence, some on duty and many idle. In the background, the
slopes of the valley were dark green with pine and cedar.

At the open door of the building Neale met Baxter face to face, and that
worthy's greeting left Neale breathless and aghast, yet thrilling with
sheer gladness.

"What're you up against?" asked Neale.

"The boss 'll talk to you. Get in there!" Baxter replied, and pushed
Neale inside. It was a big room, full of smoke, noise, men, tables,
papers. There were guns stacked under port-holes. Some one spoke to
Neale, but he did not see who it was. All the faces he saw so swiftly
appeared vague, yet curious and interested. Then Baxter halted him at
a table. Once again Neale faced his chief. Baxter announced something.
Neale did not hear the words plainly.

General Lodge looked older, sterner, more worn. He stood up.

"Hello, Neale!" he said, offering his hand, and the flash of a smile
went over his grim face.

"Come in here," continued the chief, and he led Neale into another room,
of different aspect. It was small; the walls were of logs; new boards
had been recently put in the floor; new windows had been cut; and it
contained Indian blankets, chairs, a couch.

Here General Lodge bent a stern and piercing gaze upon his former
lieutenant.

"Neale, you failed me when you quit your job," he said. "You were my
right-hand man. You quit me in my hour of need."

"Ge