“I’ll take a bunch of soldiers and go after Durade,” said Neale, grimly.
“No. Don’t do that. Let him alone. Just get me away safely, far out of his reach.”
“But, Allie, that’s not possible now,” declared Neale, “I’m certainly not going to lose sight of you, now I’ve got you again. And I must go back to work. I promised.”
“I can stay here—or go along with you to other camps, and be careful to veil myself and hide.”
“But that’s not safe—not the best plan,” protested Neale. Then he gave a start; his face darkened. “I’ll put Larry King on Durade’s trail.”
“Oh no, Neale! Don’t do that! Please don’t do that! Larry would kill him.”
“I rather guess Larry would. And why not?”
“I don’t want Durade killed. It would be dreadful. He never hurt me. Let him alone. After all, he seems to be the only father I ever knew. Oh, I don’t care for him. I despise him.... But let him live.... He will soon forget me. He is mad to gamble. This railroad of gold is a rich stake for him. He will not last long, nor will any of his kind.”
Neale shook his head doubtfully. “It doesn’t seem wise to me—letting him go.... Allie, does he use his right name—Durade?”
“No.”