“I—I guess I’ll have to,” replied Neale. He did not feel that he was deciding. He had to go. But this did not prove that he must take up his old work.
Larry swung his hand on Neale’s shoulder, almost staggering him. The cowboy beamed.
“Go in to breakfast,” he said. “Order for me, too. I’ll be back.”
“You want to hurry,” rejoined Campbell. “We’ve only a half-hour to eat an’ catch the work-train.”
Larry strode back toward the lodging-house. And it was Campbell who led Neale into the restaurant and ordered the meal. Neale’s mind was not in a whirl, nor dazed, but he did not get much further in thought than the remarkable circumstance of General Lodge sending for him personally. Meanwhile Campbell rapidly talked about masonry, road-beds, washouts, and other things that Neale heard but did not clearly understand. Then Larry returned. He carried Neale’s bag, which he deposited carefully on the bench.
“I reckon you might as well take it along,” he drawled.
Neale felt himself being forced along an unknown path.
They indulged in little further conversation while hurriedly eating breakfast. That finished, they sallied forth toward the station. Campbell clambered aboard the work-train.
“Come on, Larry,” he said.
And Neale joined in the request. “Yes, come,” he said.