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Page 49
"Grab him! Throw him down; tie and gag him," were the gambler's orders.
Two men nearest the young engineer sprang at him.
"We'll play this game right through to the finish, then!" burst from
Tom's lips, and there was something like fury in his voice.
Biff! Thump!
Two of the townsmen of Paloma, wholly unprepared for resistance, went
down before the engineer's telling blows.
"Your turn, Duff!" rumbled Reade's voice, as he sprang forward and
launched a terrific blow at the gambler.
Duff went down, almost doubling up as he struck. He had been hit
squarely on the jaw with a force that made even Tom Reade's hardened
knuckles ache.
"Shoot him!" rose a snarl, as others moved toward the boy.
"All right!" assented Tom, his voice ringing cheerily despite his anger.
"Be cowards, as comes natural to you. Yet, if you have the courage of
real men I'll agree to fight my way out of this place, meeting you one
at a time."
"What's that noise up in the street?" suddenly demanded Ashby, in a tone
of sudden fear.
"Run up and find out, if you want to know," proposed Tom, who stood
poised, ready for another assailant to come within reach of his fists.
Stealthily, on tip-toe, the bully who had first engaged Reade in the
street fight, was now trying to get up behind the young engineer. The
bully held the shotgun ready to bring down on the lad's head.
"There's some row up there," continued Ashby. "There, I heard shots!"
"Brave, aren't you?" jeered Tom.
Three or four of the masked cowards started for the steep stairway.
Even the bully with the clubbed shotgun must have been seized with fear;
for, though in position to strike, he quickly lowered the weapon and
listened.
Bump! smash! sounded, though not directly overhead.
Then from the hallway above came the noise of the treading of many feet,
while a voice roared hoarsely:
"Spread through the house, boys! If they've done anything to Mr. Reade,
then break the necks of every white-livered rascal you can find!"
"Fine!" chuckled Tom, while the masked faces in the cellar turned even
whiter than the cloths covering them. "That voice sounds familiar to
me, too."
Over the hubbub of voices above sounded some remonstrating tones, as
though others were urging a less violent course.
"It's the workmen from the camp!" guessed Hotelman Ashby, in a voice
that shook as though from ague.
"Sounds like it," chuckled Tom. "Cheer up, Ashby. If it's our railroad
crew I'll try to see to it that they don't do more than half kill you!"
Then, raising his voice, Tom called gleefully:
"Hello, there! You'll find us in the cellar."
"Why don't you kill that fool!" muttered Jim Duff, who, still dazed,
struggled to sit up.
"Hush, man, for goodness sake!" implored the badly frightened Ashby.
Duff, with rapidly returning consciousness, now leaped to his feet,
drawing his pistol and springing at Reade.
"Hold on!" Tom proposed coolly. "You're too late!"
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