Campbell made a quick, nervous movement. “Neale, I was to say—tell—There’s more ‘n your old job waitin’ for you.”
“What do you mean?” queried Neale.
“That’s all, except the corps have struck a snag out here west of Benton. It’s a bad place. You an’ Henney were west in the hills when this survey was made. It’s a deep wash—bad grade an’ curves. The gang’s stuck. An’ Baxter swore, ‘We’ve got to have Neale back on the job!’”
“Where’s Henney?” asked Neale, rather thickly. Campbell’s words affected him powerfully.
“Henney had to go to Omaha. Boone is sick at Fort Fetterman. Baxter has only a new green hand out there, an’ they’ve sure struck a snag.”
“That’s too bad,” replied Neale, still thoughtfully. “Is—the chief—is General Lodge there?”
“Yes. There’s a trooper camp. Colonel Dillon an’ some of the officers have their wives out on a little visit to see the work. They couldn’t stand Benton.”
“Well—you thank Baxter and tell him I’m sorry I must refuse,” said Neale.
“You won’t come!” ejaculated Campbell.
Neale shook his head. Larry reached out with big, eager hands.