The next morning only a few of the men, some of those who had refused to
open bank accounts, failed to show up at the railroad camp.
“There is really nothing to do this morning,” Tom remarked to
Superintendent Hawkins. “However, I think you had better dock the
missing men for time off. If you find that any missing man has been gone
on a proper errand of rest or enjoyment, and has not been making a beast
of himself, you can restore his docked pay on the lists.”
“That's a very good idea,” nodded Hawkins. “It always angers me to see
these poor, hardworking fellows go away and make fools of themselves
just as soon as they get a bit of pay in their pockets. Still, you can't
change the whole face of human nature, Mr. Reade.”
“I don't expect to do so,” smiled Tom. “Yet, if we can get a hundred or
two in this outfit to take a sensible view of pay day, and can drill
it into them so that it will stick, there will be just that number of
happier men in the world. How long have you been in this work on the
frontier, Mr. Hawkins?”
“About twenty years, sir.”
“Then it must have angered you, many a time, to see the vultures and the
parasites fattening on the men who do the real work in life.”
“It has,” nodded the superintendent. “However, I haven't your gift with
the tongue, Mr. Reade, and I've never been able to lead men into the
right path as you did yesterday.”
Over in the little village of tents where the idle workmen sat through
the forenoon there was some restlessness. These men knew that there was
nothing for them to do until the construction material arrived, and that
they were required only to report in order to keep themselves on the
time sheets. Having reported to their foremen and the checkers, they
were quite at liberty to go over into Paloma or elsewhere. A few of them
had gone. Some others had an uneasy feeling that they wouldn't like to
face the contempt in the eyes of the young chief engineer if he happened
to see them going away from camp.
“It's none of the business of that chap Reade,” growled one of the
workmen.
“Of course it isn't,” spoke up another. “He talked to us straight
yesterday, however, and showed us that it was our own business to keep
out of the tough places in Paloma. I've worked under these engineers
for years, and I never before knew one of them to care whether I had a
hundred dollars or an empty stomach. Boys, I tell you, Reade, has the
right stuff in him, if he is only a youngster. He knows the enemies he
has made over in Paloma, and he understands the risks be has been taking
in making such enemies. He proved to us that he can stand that sort of
thing and be our friend. Look at this thing, will you?”
With something of a look of wonder the speaker drew out the bankbook
that he had acquired the afternoon before.
“I've got forty dollars in bank,” he continued, in something of a tone
of awe. “Forty friends of mine that I've put away to work and do good
things for me! If I don't touch this money for some years then I'll find
that this money has grown to be a lot more than forty dollars!”
“Or else you'll find that some bank clerk is up in Canada spending it,”
jeered a companion.
“I don't care what the clerk does. The bank will be still good for the
money. Joe, you read the papers as often as any come into camp.”
“Yes.”
“All right. The next time you find anything about a savings bank that
has failed and left the people in the lurch for their money, you show it
to me. Savings banks don't fail nowadays! No, Sir!”
Other men through the camp were taking sly peeps at their bankbooks,
as though they were half ashamed at having such possessions. Yet many
a hard toiler in camp felt a new sense of importance that morning. He
began to look upon himself as a part of the moneyed world as, indeed, he
was!
“Telegram for Mr. Reade,” called one of the two camp operators, coming
forward.
Tom tore the envelope open, then stared at the following message:
“Reade, Chief Engineer.
“Have complaint from merchants of Paloma that you have effectually
stopped the men from spending any money in the town. Not our policy to
make enemies of the towns along our line. Explain immediately.
“(Signed) ELLSWORTH,
“General Manager.”
“Hmmm!” smiled Tom, then passed the message over to Superintendent
Hawkins.
“Your newly made enemies have gotten after you quickly, Sir,” commented
the superintendent grimly.
“Yes,” nodded Tom. “And, of course, I can't follow any course that isn't
approved by the general manager. I'll wire him the truth and see what he
has to say. Operator!”
“Yes, Sir,” replied the young man, turning and coming back.
“Wait for a message,” directed Tom; then seated himself and wrote the
following reply:
“Ellsworth, General Manager.
“Have not interfered in any way with honest merchants of Paloma. Men are
at liberty to spend their money any way they choose. I did give the men
a talk about the foolishness of spending their wages in buying liquor
or in gambling. Result was that men banked about two thirds of the total
pay roll with the bank people you sent on pay train yesterday at my
request. Also drove off a gambler who tried to erect two tents on
railroad property in order to fleece the men more speedily.
“(Signed) READE,
“Chief Engineer.”
“That will tell the general manager about the kind of merchants
that I've been injuring,” smiled Tom, first showing the sheet to
Superintendent Hawkins and then handing it to the waiting messenger.
“I hope Ellsworth, will be satisfied,” nodded Hawkins. “Good will is an
asset for a railway, and your enemies in Paloma may be able to stir up a
good deal of trouble for you. Mr. Reade, I stood with you yesterday,
and I'm still with you. If Ellsworth is so cranky that you feel like
throwing the job here, then I'll walk out with you.”
“Oh, I'm not going to give up the work here,” predicted Reade
cheerfully. “I'm too much interested in it. Neither am I going to
have my hands tied by any clique of gamblers and dive keepers. If Mr.
Ellsworth isn't satisfied, then I'll run up to headquarters and talk to
him in person. I'm not going to quit; neither am I going to be prevented
from winning and deserving the friendship of the men who are here
working for us.”
“Telegram for Mr. Reade,” grinned the operator, again looking in at the
doorway.
After reading it, Tom passed over to Hawkins this message from General
Manager Ellsworth:
“Unable to judge merits of case at this distance. Will be with you
soon.”
“That's all right,” Reade declared.
“It looks all right,” muttered Hawkins, who knew something about the
ways of railroads.
Up the track the whistle on a stationary engine blew the noon signal.
“Feel like eating, Harry?” Tom called to his chum, who had been mildly
dozing in a chair in one corner of the room.
“Always,” declared Hazelton, sitting up and yawning.
“Are you going to eat in town this noon, or in camp?” Tom inquired of
the superintendent of construction.
Hawkins was about to answer that he'd eat in camp, when he suddenly
reconsidered.
“I guess I'll ride along with you, Mr. Reade,” he said dryly.
Horses were brought, and the three mounted and rode away. In such
sizzling heat as beat down from the noonday sun Tom had not the heart to
urge his mount to speed. The trio were soon at the edge of Paloma, which
they had to enter through one of the streets occupied by the rougher
characters.
Just as they rode down by the first buildings a low whistle sounded on
the heavy, dead air.
“Signal that the locomotive is headed this way,” announced Hawkins
grimly. “Look out for the crossing, Mr. Reade!”
Hardly had the superintendent finished speaking when a sharp hiss
sounded from an open window. Then another and more hisses, from
different buildings.
“A few snakes left in the grass,” Tom remarked jokingly.
“Oh, you've stirred up a nest of 'em, Mr. Reade,” rejoined the
superintendent.
Tom laughed as Harry added:
“Let's hope that there are no poisonous reptiles among them. It would be
rough on poisonous snakes to have Tom find them.”
Then the three horsemen turned the corner near the Mansion House.
Superintendent Hawkins looked grave as he noted a crowd before the
hotel.
“Mr. Reade, I believe those men are there waiting to see you. I'm
certain they've not gathered just to talk about the weather.”
There was a movement in the crowd, and a suppressed, surly murmur, as
the engineer party was sighted.
Tom Reade, however, rode forward at the head of his party, alighting
close to the crowd, which numbered fifty or sixty men. The young chief
engineer signed to one of the stable boys, who came forward, half
reluctantly, and took the bridles of the three horses to lead them away.
Jim Duff, backed by three other men, stepped forward. There was a world
of menace in the gambler's wicked eyes as he began, in a soft, almost
purring tone:
“Mr. Reade,” announced Jim Duff, “we are a committee, appointed by
citizens, to express our belief that the air of Paloma is not going to
be good for you. At the same time we wish to ask you concerning your
plans for leaving the town.”
There could be no question as to the meaning of the speaker. Tom Reade
was being ordered out of town.