out
warrant.

The work-train was backing into the station and would depart westward in
short order. Neale hurried to his lodgings to pack his few belongings.
Larry was lying on his cot, fully dressed and asleep. Neale shook him.

"Wake up, you lazy son-of-a-gun!" shouted Neale.

Larry opened his eyes. "Wal, what's wrong? Is it last night or
to-morrow?"

"Larry, I'm off. Got charge of a big job."

"Is thet all?" drawled Larry, sleepily. "Why, shore I always knowed
you'd be chief engineer some day."

"Pard--sit up," said Neale, unsteadily. "Will you stay sober--and
watch--and listen for some news of Allie?... Till I come back to
Benton?"

"Neale, air you still dreamin'?" asked Larry, incredulously.

"Will you do that much for me?"

"Shore."

"Thank you, old friend. Good-by now. I've got to rustle." He left Larry
sitting on his cot, staring at nothing. On the way to the station Neale
encountered the gambler, Place Hough, who, despite his nocturnal habits,
was an early riser. In the excitement of the hour Neale gave way to
an impulse. Briefly he told Hough about Allie--her disappearance and
probable hidden presence in Benton, and he asked the gambler to keep
his eyes and ears open. Hough seemed both surprised and pleased with the
confidence, and he said he would go out of his way to help Neale.

Neale had to run to catch the train. A brawny Irishman extended a
red-sleeved arm to help him up.

"Up wid yez. Thor!"

Neale found himself with bag and rifle and blanket sprawling on the
gravel-covered floor of a flat car. Casey, the old lineman, grinned at
him over the familiar short, black pipe.

"B'gorra, it's me ould fri'nd Neale."

"It sure is. How're you Casey?"

"Pritty good fur an ould soldier.... An' it's news I hear of yez, me
boy."

"What news?"

"Shure yez hed a boost. Gineral Lodge hisself wor tellin' Grady, the
boss, that yez had been given charge of Number Ten."

"Yes, that's correct."

"I'm dom' glad to hear ut," declared the Irishman. "But yez hev a hell
of a job in thot Number Ten."

"So I've been told. What do you know about it, Casey?"

"Shure ut ain't much. A fri'nd of mine was muxin' mortor over there. An'
he sez whin the crick was dry ut hed a bottom, but whin wet ut shure hed
none."

"Then I have got a job on my hands," replied Neale, grimly.

Those days it took the work-train several hours to reach the end of the
rails. Neale rode by some places with a profound satisfaction