|
Main
- books.jibble.org
My Books
- IRC Hacks
Misc. Articles
- Meaning of Jibble
- M4 Su Doku
- Computer Scrapbooking
- Setting up Java
- Bootable Java
- Cookies in Java
- Dynamic Graphs
- Social Shakespeare
External Links
- Paul Mutton
- Jibble Photo Gallery
- Jibble Forums
- Google Landmarks
- Jibble Shop
- Free Books
- Intershot Ltd
|
books.jibble.org
Previous Page
| Next Page
Page 10
"And the foremen? You can depend upon them?"
"On every one of them," declared Hawkins promptly. "Even to the Mexican
foreman, Mendoza. He's a greaser, but he's a brick, and a white man all
the way through!"
"Call the foremen in, then--all except Payson, who is with his gang."
Tom and Harry stepped inside the office. Mr. Hawkins strolled away, but
within ten minutes he was back again, followed by Foremen Bell, Rivers
and Mendoza.
"Two wagons have driven up, east of here," announced Mr. Hawkins, as he
entered the office building. "They've stopped a quarter of a mile below
here and have dumped two tents. I think they're about to raise them."
Tom stepped hastily outside, glancing eastward, where they saw what the
superintendent had described. One of the tents had just been raised,
though the pitching of it had not yet been thoroughly done.
"What crowd is that?" Reade asked. "Who is at the head of it?"
"I see one man there--the only man in good clothes--who looks like Jim
Duff," replied the superintendent, using his field glasses.
"The gambler?" asked Tom sharply.
"The same."
"He's pitching his tent on the railroad's dirt, isn't he!"
"Yes, sir."
"Come along. We'll have a look at that place."
A few minutes of brisk walking brought the young engineers, the
superintendent and the three foremen to the spot.
Tent number one had been pitched. It was a circular tent, some forty
feet in diameter. The second tent, only a little smaller, was now being
hoisted.
"Who's in charge of this work?" asked Tom in his usual pleasant tone.
"My manager, Mr. Bemis--Dock Bemis," answered Jim Duff suavely, as he
moved forward to meet the party. "Dock, come here. I want you to know
Mr. Reade, the engineer in charge of this job."
Duff's manners were impudently easy and assured. The fellow known as
Dock Bemis, an unprepossessing, shabbily dressed man of thirty-five,
with a mean face and an ugly-looking eye, came forward.
"I'll take Mr. Bemis's acquaintance for granted," Tom continued, with an
easy smile. "You own this outfit, don't you, Mr. Duff?"
"I've rented it, if you mean the tents, tables and chairs," assented the
gambler. "I've a stock of liquors coming over as soon as I send one of
the wagons back."
"What do you propose to do with all this?" Tom inquired.
"Why, of course, you see," smiled Duff, with all the suavity in the
world, "as your boys are going to be paid off this afternoon they'll
want to go somewhere to enjoy themselves. As the day is very hot I
thought it would be showing good intentions if I brought an outfit over
here. I'll have everything ready within an hour."
"So that you can get our men intoxicated and fleece them more easily?"
asked Tom, with his best smile. "Is that the idea?"
Jim buff flushed angrily. Then his face became pale.
"It's a crude way you have of expressing it, Mr. Reade, if you Ill allow
me to say so," the gambler answered, in a voice choked with anger. "I
am going to offer your men a little amusement. It's what they need, and
what they'll insist upon. Do you see? There's a small mob coming this
way now."
Tom turned, discovering about a hundred railroad laborers coming down
the road.
Previous Page
| Next Page
|
|