“Son, I didn’t have to play my trump card to fetch you back to work,” said the general.
“If you only had!” exclaimed Neale.
Allie got up, shyly and with difficulty disengaged her hand from Neale’s.
“You—you must want to talk,” she said, and then she fled.
“A wonderful girl, Neale. We’re all in love with her,” declared the chief. “She dropped down on us one night—asked for protection and you. She does not talk much. All we know is that she is the girl you saved back in the hills and has been kept a prisoner. Here she hides, by day and night. She will not talk. But we know she fears some one.”
“Yes, indeed she does,” replied Neale, seriously. And then briefly he told General Lodge Allie’s story as related by her.
“Well!” ejaculated the chief. “If that doesn’t beat me!... What are you going to do?”
“I’ll keep her close. Surely she will be safe here—hidden—with the soldiers about.”
“Of course. But you can never tell what’s going to happen. If she could be gotten to Omaha—now—”
“No—no,” replied Neale, almost violently. He could not bear the thought of parting with Allie, now just when he had found her. Then the chief’s suggestion had reminded Neale of the possibility of Allie’s father materializing. And the idea was attended by a vague dread.