and the trample of
heavy boots as men dragged a dead gamester out to the ditch.

Day was a relief, a blessing. Allie was frequently cooped up in her
narrow canvas-covered wagon, but she saw from there the life of the
grading camp.

There were various bosses--the boarding boss, who fed the laborers; the
stable boss, who had charge of the teams; the grading boss, who ruled
the diggers and scrapers; and the time-keeper boss, who kept track of
the work of all.

In the early morning a horde of hungry men stampeded the boarding-tents
where the cooks and waiters made mad haste to satisfy loud and merry
demands. At sunset the same horde dropped in, dirty and hot and lame,
and fought for seats while others waited for their turn.

Out on the level plain stretched the hundreds of teams, moving on and
returning, the drivers shouting, the horses bending. The hot sun glared,
the wind whipped up the dust, the laborers speeded up to the shout of
the boss. And ever westward crept the low, level, yellow bank of sand
and gravel--the road-bed of the first transcontinental railway.

Thus the daytime had its turmoil, too, but this last was splendid,
like the toil of heroes united to gain some common end. And the army of
soldiers waited, ever keen-eyed, for the skulking Sioux.

Mull, the boss of the camp, became a friend of Durade's. The wily
Spaniard could draw to him any class of men. This Mull had been a driver
of truck-horses in New York, and now he was a driver of men.

He was huge, like a bull, heavy-lipped and red-cheeked, hairy and
coarse, with big sunken eyes. A brute--a caveman. He drank; he gambled.
He was at once a bully and a pirate. Responsible to no one but his
contractor, he hated the contractor and he hated his job. He was great
in his place, brutal with fist and foot, a gleaner of results from hard
men at a hard time.

He won gold from Durade, or, as Fresno guffawed to a comrade, he had
been allowed to win it. Durade picked his man. He had big schemes and he
needed Mull.

Benton was Durade's objective point--Benton, the great and growing
camp-city, where gold and blood were spilled in the dusty streets and
life roared like a blast from hell.

All that Allie heard of Benton increased her dread, and at last she
determined that she would run any risk rather than be taken there. And
so one night, as soon as it grew dark, she slipped out of the wagon and,
under cover of darkness, made her escape.

15

The b