be alone--to
study his plans--to think about the whole matter. He found his old
figures and drawings as absorbing as a good story; still, there came
breaks in his attention. Blake walked into the tent several times, as
if to speak, and each time he retired silently. Again, some messenger
brought a telegram to one of the engineers outside, and it must have
caused the whispered colloquy that followed. Finally they went away, and
Neale, getting to work in earnest, was not disturbed until called for
supper.

Neale ate at a mess-table with the laborers, and enjoyed his meal. The
Paddies always took to him. One thing he gathered early was the fact
that Number Ten bridge was a joke with the men. This sobered Neale and
he left the cheery, bantering company for a quiet walk alone.

It was twilight down in the valley, while still daylight up on the
hilltops. A faint glow remained from the sunset, but it faded as Neale
looked. He walked a goodly distance from camp, so as to be out of
earshot. The cool night air was pleasant after the hot day. It fanned
his face. And the silence, the darkness, the stars calmed him. A
lonely wolf mourned from the heights, and the long wail brought to mind
Slingerland's cabin. Then it was only a quick step to memory of Allie
Lee; and Neale drifted from the perplexities and problems of his new
responsibility to haunting memories, hopes, doubts, fears.

When he returned to the tent he espied a folded paper on the table in
the yellow lamplight. It was a telegram addressed to him. It said that
back salaries and retention of engineers were at his discretion, and was
signed Lodge. This message nonplussed Neale. The chief must mean that
Blake and Coffee would not be paid for past work nor kept for future
work unless Neale decided otherwise. While he was puzzling over this
message the engineers came in.

"Say, what do you make of this?" demanded Neale, and he shoved the
telegram across the table toward them.

Both men read it. Coffee threw his coat over on his cot and then lit his
pipe.

"What I make of this is--I lose three months' back pay... nine hundred
dollars," he replied, puffing a cloud of smoke.

"And I lose six hundred," supplemented Blake.

Neale leaned back and gazed up at his subordinates. He felt a subtle
change in them. They had arrived at some momentous decision.

"But this message reads at my discretion," said Neale. "It's a plain
surprise to me. I've no intention of making you lo