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It was several moments after the door of Allie's room had slammed behind her before Gus Briskow spoke, and then it was with a deep sigh. "I been afraid of something like this, Ma. I reckon we're goin' to pay dear for our money before we get through." "An' him with a princess in Wichita Falls!" the mother quavered.
Had Charlie attired himself in a checked apron and sunbonnet, it would have seemed a thoroughly admirable costume to his cousin's eyes; but, on this particular evening, Allie's praise was well-merited, for the new suit was unmistakably a success.
It was the place, the hour of impulse. Gray swore savagely at himself, then he stumbled into his room and dressed himself more fully. "Well, there doesn't seem to be much change," he said, cheerfully, as he opened Allie's door awhile later. "The fires don't seem to be spreading." She was sitting where he had left her, she had not moved. "Anything new on this side?"
Marjorie exclaimed incredulously. "Well no I don't know," said Allie, wavering a little. "Ned's just about as near right as he can be; but I believe, after all, I'd rather live in the house with Charlie. Ned might be a little too peppery for a steady diet." "I never thought you'd turn a cold shoulder to Ned," said Marjorie, shaking her head over Allie's defection.
At the corner of a large house a long structure which sent out gleams of light Ancliffe opened a door and pulled Allie into a hallway, dark near at hand, but brilliant at the other end. He drew her along this passage, striding slower now and unsteadily. He turned into another hall lighted by lamps. Music and gaiety seemed to sweep stunningly into Allie's face.
They came riding in bareback, sometimes two on one horse, flourishing their guns a hundred or more red-faced Irishmen spoiling for a fight. Their advent eased Neale's dread. Still, a strange feeling weighed upon him and he could not understand it or shake it. He had no optimism for the moment. He judged it to be over-emotion, a selfish and rather exaggerated fear for Allie's safety.
Nothin' ain't no good? ... Life's over, fer all thet's sweet an' right? Is thet your stand?" "Yes, it must be, Reddy," said Neale, with scorn of himself. "But you it needn't apply to you." "I reckon I'm sorry," rejoined Larry, ignoring Neale's last words. "I always hoped you'd get over Allie's loss.... You had so much to live fer."
He began to whistle, and, drawing his knife, he went into the brush to cut a fishing-pole. The trout in this brook had long tempted his fisherman's eye, and upon this visit he had brought a line and hooks. He made a lot of noise all for Allie's benefit; then, tramping out of the brush, he began to trim the rod within twenty feet of where she sat.
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. "I appreciate how you feel. Don't worry about it, Neale." "What's this snag the engineers are up against?" queried Neale, abruptly changing the subject. "We're stuck.
He fairly shoved me into the skiff, after a spell. "'Now, he says, so mad he could hardly speak, 'stop your lying and row, will you! "I was willing to row then. I cal'lated I'd done some missionary work by this time. Allie's guns was spiked, if I knew Barbara Saunders. I p'inted the skiff the way she'd ought to go and laid to the oars.
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