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Page 34
Tom's eyes glowed.
"Go away," grinned Hazelton mischievously, "or I'll catch some of your
enthusiasm."
"You don't need any of it," Reade retorted laughingly. "You've tons of
enthusiasm stowed away for future use. You know you have."
"I suppose I have enough enthusiasm," Harry admitted, "but I should like
to do some actual work. I ride out on the sands every day and sit
looking on while the real work is being done. This problem of
conquering the Man-killer is growing monotonous. I'm tired of pegging
away at the same old task day in and day out."
"Not quite as bad as that," Tom declared. "There's always something a
bit new. If you want work to do right now, ride over and show those
teamsters where you want them to put the logs that they're bringing up."
This was far too little to satisfy Harry's longing for "doing things,"
but with a grunt he turned his horse's head and jogged away at a trot.
Tom moved in under the shade of the tree.
"Harry doesn't know enough to appreciate a good thing when he has it,"
softly laughed Tom, grateful for the scant bit of shade. "Neither does
he yet know that often times the brain works best when the body is at
rest."
Just then Tom heard a sudden shout from the distance, followed by a
chorus of excited voices.
Instantly the young engineer's gaze turned toward the lately filled-in
edge of the big sink.
A hundred feet beyond the light platform where some laborers had been
working Reade beheld only the head and shoulders of one of the workmen.
"The foolish fellow--to go out so far beyond where the men are allowed
to go!" gasped the young chief engineer, setting spurs to his horse.
In a few moments Tom had reached the edge of the sink.
"A rope!" he shouted, and seized the thirty-foot lariat that was handed
him. With this, Tom, now on foot, ran within casting distance of the
unfortunate, who was being rapidly enveloped by the quicksand.
"Come back, Mr. Reade!" bellowed Foreman Payson. "The drift is setting
in on this side of you. Back, like lightning, or you're a doomed man!
You'll be swallowed up by the Man-killer yourself!"
But Tom, intent only on saving the unfortunate laborer beyond, was
wholly heedless of the fact that his own life was in as great danger.
CHAPTER X
HARRY FIGHTS FOR COMMAND
"Come back, Mr. Reade!" implored Foreman Payson.
For Tom, who had made two casts with the lariat and failed, was knee-
deep in shifting sand himself.
"Keep cool!" the young chief engineer called over his shoulder. "I'll
be back--both of us in a minute or two."
The hapless laborer was now engulfed to his neck in the quicksand.
"Save me! In Heaven's name get me out of this!" begged the poor fellow,
frenzied by dread of his seemingly sure fate.
"I'm doing the best I can, friend!" Tom called, as he made a fresh cast.
This time the noose of the raw-hide lariat dropped over the laborer's
head.
"Fight your hands free, man!" Tom called encouragingly. "Fight your
hands and chest free, so that you can slip the noose down under your
armpits. Keep cool and work fast, and we'll have you out. Don't let
yourself get excited."
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