Neale could not place him, and he did not try hard for recognition, for that surely would recall his former relations to the railroad.
“I don’t remember you,” replied Neale.
“I’ll bet Larry does,” said the stranger, with a grin at the cowboy.
“Shore. Your name’s Campbell an’ you was a lineman for Baxter,” returned Larry.
“Right you are,” said Campbell, offering his hand to Neale, and then to Larry. He appeared both glad and excited.
“I guess I recall you now,” said Neale, thoughtfully. “You said—you were hunting me?”
“Well, I should smile!” returned Campbell, and handed Neale a letter.
Neale tore it open and hastily perused its contents. It was a brief, urgent request from Baxter that Neale should return to work. The words, almost like an order, made Neale’s heart swell for a moment. He stood there staring at the paper. Larry read the letter over his shoulder.
“Pard, shore I was expectin’ jest thet there, an’ I say go!” exclaimed Larry.
Neale slowly shook his head.