The Young Engineers in Arizona by H. Irving Hancock


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 52

Within sixty seconds the last of them had run the gauntlet of contempt
and vanished.

"Someone told me," scoffed Beasley, "that a gambler is a man of courage,
polish, brains and good manners. I reckon Jim Duff isn't a real
gambler, then."

"Yes, he is!" shouted another. "He's one of the real kind--sometimes
smooth, but always bound to fatten on the money that belongs to other
men."

"Jim can leave town, I reckon," grimly declared another old settler.
"We have savings banks these days, and we don't need gamblers to carry
our money for us."

"Speech, Reade! Speech!" insisted Mr. Beasley good-humoredly.

From some mysterious place a barrel was passed along from hand to hand.
It was set down before the young chief engineer, and ready hands hoisted
him to the upturned end of the barrel.

"Speech!" roared a thousand voices.

Tom, grinning good-humoredly, then waved his arms as though to still the
tumult of voices. Gradually the cheering died down, then ceased.

Bang! sounded further down the Street, and the flash of a rifle was
seen.

Tom Reade, his speech unmade, fell from the barrel into the arms of
those crowded about him.




CHAPTER XV

MR. DANES INTRODUCES HIMSELF


Daylight found Jim Duff and some of his cronies of the night before
either absent from Paloma, or else securely hidden.

Fred Ransom, the Colthwaite Company's representative, had also vanished.

Proprietor Ashby, of the Mansion House, was reported to be skulking in
his hotel, as he did not show his face on the streets.

Morning also brought calmer counsel to the real men of Paloma. They
were now glad that they had not sullied themselves by acts of violence.

No one, when daylight came, entertained the belief that Tom Reade would
suffer from any further attempts at violence, for now the little coterie
of so-called "bad men" in the town were thoroughly frightened.

Tom had not been hit by the rifle shot. He had fallen as a matter of
precaution, fearing that a second shot would speed on the heels of the
first.

The fellow who had fired that shot at Tom had not lingered long enough
to place himself in risk of Arizona vengeance. Even before some of the
men in the crowd had had time to discover that Reade, unhurt, was
laughing over his escape, a score or more had darted down the street,
only to find that the unknown whom they sought was safely out of the
way.

"We'll search the town from one end to the other," one excited citizen
had proposed.

"We'll make a night of it."

"Don't do anything of the sort," Tom had urged. "You'll terrorize
hundreds of women and children, who have no knowledge of this affair.
Jim Duff's little evening of celebration is ended and now the wisest
thing for you to do is to return to your homes. Mr. Hawkins!"

"Here, sir," answered the superintendent of construction.

"Get our men together and return to camp. They'll need sleep against
the toil of to-morrow. Let every man who wants to do so sleep an hour
or two later in the morning. Men of the A., G. & N. M., accept my
heartiest thanks for the splendid manner in which you turned out to help
me, though as yet I'm ignorant of how it all came about."

Previous Page | Next Page


Books | Photos | Paul Mutton | Wed 24th Dec 2025, 0:29