“Yes.”
“Son, it’s scarcely possible,” said Lodge, earnestly. “Anderson claims the Sioux got her. We all incline to that.... Oh, it’s hard, Neale.... Love and life are only atoms under the iron heel of the U. P. R.... It’s too late now. You can’t forget—no—but you must not risk your life—your opportunities—your reputation.”
Neale turned away his face for a moment and was silent. An engine whistled; a bell began to ring; some train official called to General Lodge. The chief held up his hand for a little more delay.
“I’m off,” he said rapidly. “Neale, you’ll go out to Number Ten and take charge.”
That surprised and thrilled Neale into eagerness.
“Who are the engineers?”
“Blake and Coffee. I don’t know them. Henney sent them out from Omaha. They’re well recommended. But that’s no matter. Something is wrong. You’re to have full charge of engineers, bosses, masons. In fact, I’ve sent word out to that effect.”
“Who’s the contractor?” asked Neale.
“I don’t know. But whoever he is he has made a pile of money out of this job. And the job’s not done. That’s what galls me.”
“Well, chief, it will be done,” said Neale, sharp with determination.