Neale eyed him, aware of a hard and tense contraction of the cowboy’s throat.
“Well, what ‘ll you do?” queried Neale, shortly.
Larry threw back his head, and the subtle, fierce tensity seemed to leave him.
“Wal, the day you come back I’ll clean out Stanton’s place—jest to start entertainin’ you,” he replied, with his slow drawl as marked as ever it was.
A stir of anger in Neale’s breast subsided with the big, warm realization of this wild cowboy’s love for him and the melancholy certainty that Larry would do exactly as he threatened.
“Suppose I come back and beat you all up?” suggested Neale.
“Wal, thet won’t make a dam’ bit of difference,” replied Larry, seriously.
Whereupon Neale soberly bade his friend good-bye and boarded the train.
The ride appeared slow and long, dragged out by innumerable stops. All along the line laborers awaited the train to unload supplies. At the end of the line there was a congestion Neale had not observed before in all the work. Freight-cars, loaded with stone and iron beams and girders for bridge-work, piles of ties and piles of rails, and gangs of idle men attested to the delay caused by an obstacle to progress. The sight aggressively stimulated Neale. He felt very curious to learn the cause of the setback, and his old scorn of difficulties flashed up.
The camp Neale’s guide led him to was back some distance from the construction work. It stood in a little valley through which ran a stream. There was one large building, low and flat, made of boards and canvas, adjoining a substantial old log cabin; and clustered around, though not close together, were a considerable number of tents. Troopers were in evidence, some on duty and many idle. In the background, the slopes of the valley were dark green with pine and cedar.