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Page 53
Nor was it until the next day that Tom Reade learned from Hazelton just
what had caused the laborers to tumble out of their beds and rush into
town to serve him.
That night Tim Griggs had been prowling about the streets of Paloma,
suspicious of Reade's enemies, and watching for the safety of the young
chief engineer who had saved him from the savage appetite of the Man-
killer quicksand.
It had chanced that Tim had caught a glimpse of the finish of the fight
on the street, and was just in time to see the young chief engineer
lifted and carried into that unoccupied house, the property of the hotel
man, Ashby.
Tim's first instinct had been to seek help in town--in that very
neighborhood. Tim was suspicious, and afraid that he might by mistake
appeal to some of Tom's enemies.
So, while running through the streets searching for Hazelton, Tim had
espied an automobile standing idle in front of a house. Having some
acquaintance with automobiles, Tim had cranked up and leaped into the
vehicle, speeding straight to camp, where he gave the alarm. Men
answered by hundreds, Mendoza keeping his Mexicans in camp to watch the
property there.
Harry was aroused by the tumult, for he had just gone to his room,
intending to turn in.
Having roused the camp, Tim ran the car back to town at the head of the
swarming little army and returned to the spot where he had seized the
automobile.
"It's all over now, old fellow," Tom declared to his chum cheerily,
rising from his office chair as one of the whistles blew and the men
knocked off for their noonday meal. "What happened last night won't
happen again."
"Just the same, Tom, I almost wish you'd carry a pistol after this,"
Harry remarked, as the two engineers went to their horses, mounted and
started toward town for their own meal.
"Bosh!" almost snapped Tom. "You know my opinion of pistols. They are
for policemen, soldiers and others who have real need to go armed. Only
a coward would pack a pistol day by day without needing it."
So the matter was dropped for the time being.
At the hotel Tom and Harry went to their accustomed seats in the dining
room. Their food was brought and the two young engineers fell to work
cheerfully. Just then a well-dressed man of perhaps thirty years
entered the dining, room, spoke to one of the waiters, and came over to
the engineers' table.
"Messrs. Reade and Hazelton?" he inquired pleasantly.
"Yes," Harry nodded.
"May I make myself known?" asked the stranger. "My name is Danes--Frank
Danes."
Harry in turn gave his own name and that of Tom.
"I wonder if you would think it intruding if I invited myself to join
you at this table?" the stranger went on.
"By no means," Tom responded cordially. "We'll be glad of your company.
It will stop Hazelton and myself from talking too much shop."
"Oh, by all means talk shop," begged Danes, as he slipped into a chair
at one side of the table. "I shall enjoy it, for I am interested in you
both. In fact, I took the liberty of asking the waiter to point you
gentlemen out to me."
"So?" Tom inquired.
Danes had the appearance of being a well-to-do easterner, and announced
himself as a resident of Baltimore.
For some minutes the three chatted pleasantly, Harry, however, doing
most of the talking for the engineers. When Tom spoke it was generally
to put some question.
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