“Big force—Sioux!” repeated Neale. “Between here and Benton?”
“Of course. We sent a scout on horseback down along the line.”
“Neale, you’ll find guns inside. Help yourself,” said General Lodge. “You’ll take breakfast with us in the cabin. We don’t know what’s up yet. But it looks bad for us—having the women here. This cabin is no fort.”
“General, we can have all those railroad ties hustled here and throw up defenses,” suggested the officer.
“That’s a good idea. But the troopers will have to carry them. That work-train won’t get out here today.”
“It’s not likely. But we can use the graders from the camp up the line... Neale, go in and get guns and a bite to eat. I’ll have a horse here ready for you. I want you to ride out after those graders.”
“All right,” replied Neale, rapidly. “Have you told—Do the women know yet what’s up?”
“Yes. And that girl of yours has nerve. Hurry, Neale.”
Neale rode away on his urgent errand without having seen Allie. His orders had been to run the horse. It was some distance to the next grading camp—how far he did not know. And the possibility of his return being cut off by Indians had quickened Neale into a realization of the grave nature of the situation.
He had difficulty climbing down and up the gorge, but, once across it, there was the graded road-bed, leading straight to the next camp. This road-bed was soft, and not easy going for a horse. Neale found better ground along the line, on hard ground, and here he urged the fresh horse to a swift and steady gait.