he cabin. Neale searched again, growing more and
more aware of the strife outside. He heard the crackling of wood over
his head. Evidently the cabin was burning like tinder. There were men
in the back room, fighting, yelling, crowding. Neale could see only dim,
burly forms and the flashes of guns. Smoke floated thickly there. Some
one, on the inside or outside, was beating out the door with an axe.

He decided quickly that whatever Allie might have done she would not
have gone into that room. He retraced his steps, groping, feeling
everywhere in the dark.

Suddenly the crackling, the shots, the yells ceased, or were drowned in
a volume of greater sound. Neale ran to the window. The flare from the
burning tents was dying down. But into the edge of the circle of light
he saw loom a line of horsemen.

"Troopers!" he cried, joyfully. A great black pressing weight seemed
lifted off his mind. The troops would soon rout that band of sneaking
Sioux.

Neale ran to the back room, where, above the din outside, he made
himself heard. But for all he could see or hear his tidings of rescue
did not at once affect the men there. Then he forgot them and the fight
outside in his search for Allie. The cabin was on fire, and he did not
mean to leave it until he was absolutely sure she was not hidden or
lying in a faint in some corner. And he had not made sure of that until
the burning roof began to fall in. Then he leaped out the window and ran
back to the inclosure.

The blaze here was no longer bright, but Neale could see distinctly.
Some of the piles of ties were burning. The heat had begun to drive the
men out. Troopers were everywhere. And it appeared the rattle of rifles
was receding up the valley. The Sioux had retreated.

Here Neale continued his search for Allie. He found Mrs. Dillon and her
companions, but Allie was not with them. All he could learn from the
frightened women was that Allie had been in their company when they
started to run from the cabin. They had not seen her since.

Still Neale did not despair, though his heart sank. Allie was hiding
somewhere. Frantically he searched the inclosure, questioned every man
he met, rushed back to the burning cabin, where the fire drove him out.
But there was no trace of Allie.

Then the conviction of calamity settled upon him. While the cabin
burned, and the troopers and graders watched, Neale now searched for the
face of the man he had recognized--the ruffian Allie called