seemed to hold all the others in sight. He held one gun
in direct alignment with Lee, low down, and with the other he rapped on
the table. The gasp that went up from round that table proved that some
one saw the guns were both cocked.

"Did I understand you to say Neale lied aboot them surveyin' figgers?"
he queried, gently.

Allison Lee turned as white as a corpse. The cowboy radiated some
dominating force, but the chill in his voice was terrible. It meant that
life was nothing to him--nor death. What was the U. P. R. to him, or its
directors, or its commissioners, or the law? There was no law in that
wild camp but the law in his hands. And he knew it.

"Did you say my pard lied?" he repeated.

Allison Lee struggled and choked over a halting, "No."

The cowboy backed away, slowly, carefully, with soft steps, and he faced
the others as he moved.

"I reckon thet's aboot all," he said, and, slipping into the crowd, he
was gone.

11

After Neale and Larry left, Slingerland saw four seasons swing round, in
which no visitors disturbed the loneliness of his valley.

All this while he did not leave Allie Lee alone, or at least out of
hearing. When he went to tend his traps or to hunt, to chop wood or
to watch the trail, Allie always accompanied him. She grew strong and
supple; she could walk far and carry a rifle or a pack; she was keen of
eye and ear, and she loved the wilds; she not only was of help to him,
but she made the time pass swiftly.

When a year passed after the departure of Neale and Larry King it seemed
to Slingerland that they would never return. There was peril on the
trails these days. He grew more and more convinced of some fatality, but
he did not confide his fears to Allie. She was happy and full of trust;
every day, almost every hour, she looked for Neale. The long wait did
not drag her down; she was as fresh and hopeful as ever and the rich
bloom mantled her cheek. Slingerland had not the heart to cast a doubt
into her happiness. He let her live her dreams.

There came a day that spring when it was imperative for him to visit
a distant valley, where he had left traps he now needed, and as the
distance was long and time short he decided to go alone. Allie laughed
at the idea of being unsafe at the cabin.

"I can take care of myself," she said. "I'm not afraid." Slingerland
scarcely doubted her. She had nerve, courage; she knew how to use a gun;
and underneath her softness and tenderne