AN ENGINEER'S FIGHTING BLOOD
Just at half-past eight that evening Tom, Harry, the superintendent and the
foremen entered camp.
They went, first, to a shack which they knew to be occupied by orderly,
respectable blacks.
"Come, men," said Tom, halting in the doorway. "I've an idea we may need
you."
Six negroes rose and came forward.
"There are gambling and bootlegging going on in this camp to-night, aren't
there?" Reade inquired.
"Ah doan' rightly know, boss," replied one of the negroes cautiously.
"But you suspect it, don't you?" Tom pressed.
"Yes; Ah done 'spec so, boss," grinned the negro.
"And I do, too," rejoined Tom. "Come along. We may need a little help."
With this reinforcement---the negroes were wanted for work rather than for
fighting---Tom now stepped off briskly through the camp.
Nor did he have to guess in which way to go through the darkened streets
of this little village of toilers. Shouts of laughter and the click of
ivory dice and celluloid chips signaled the direction.
The largest shack in the village was closed tightly as to door and window,
though light came out through the chinks. Tom stepped over there boldly,
not turning to see whether his following were close behind him.
Stepping up to the closed door the young chief engineer placed his shoulder
against it. He gave a sturdy push, and the barrier flew open.
There were about fifty of his men crowded into one large room. A half
dozen gambling games were in full blast. At two tables stood bootleggers,
each with a bottle of liquor and glasses.
Tom stalked boldly in, still without turning to look at his own following.
Reade's face bore such a mild look that the leader of the visiting
gamblers was wholly deceived as he glanced up.
"The chief!" called one workman, in dismay, and a dozen men made a break
for the door. But Harry and the others prevented their getting out.
"Oh, it's all right," cheerily announced the leader of the gamblers. "Mr.
Reade has just come here to look on and make sure that everything is being
conducted above board and on the square. Isn't that so, Reade?"
"Yes," Tom assented, pausing near the central table at which gambling was
going on.
At that assurance the panic-stricken gamblers breathed more easily.
Several men who had jumped up from their seats went back to their chairs.
"Reade is a good friend of ours," called the leader of the gamblers,
mockingly. "He isn't going to interfere with any amusements that are
properly carried on---eh, Reade?"
The fellow stared boldly into Tom's eyes, a look of insolent mockery on
his features.
"Certainly I'm not going to interfere with any proper amusements in this
camp," Tom nodded, easily.
"What did I tell you, boys?" laughed the leader of the gamblers. "Go on
with your play, boys!"
"But gambling isn't a proper amusement for poor men, who have to toil and
sweat for every five-cent piece they get," Tom Reade continued calmly.
"Neither is the trade of bootlegging a decent one, or one that provides
decent amusement. I have already warned you that gambling and liquor
selling are things of the past in this camp."
There was another stir in the room. The leader of the gamblers rose,
fixing his gaze on Tom's eyes and trying to stare the young engineer out
of countenance.
"What do you mean, Reade?" he demanded.
"Isn't my meaning clear enough?" Tom insisted, with a chilly smile.
"Man, haven't you come to your senses yet?" snarled the gambler.
"Do you mean to ask whether I was scared by the cowardly, unsigned letter
that I received this evening?" Tom fired back at the fellow, with another
taunting smile.
"I don't know anything about any letter," muttered the gambler sullenly,
"but I heard that you had come to your senses."
"Whether I have or not," retorted Tom, "you are pretty sure to come to your
proper senses to-night. Men---I mean workmen, not gamblers or
bootleggers---you are at liberty to pass out of this building."
"Don't you go," shouted the gambler, as some two dozen men started toward
the doorway where Harry and the rest were on guard.
Some of them halted.
"I must have made a mistake in calling some of you 'men,' since you take
orders from such disreputable characters as these gamblers and
bootleggers," Tom taunted them mildly. "Now, all I will say is that those
of you who wish to do so may pass outside. The rest may remain here,
though they'll be sorry, afterwards, that they stayed. All who want to
get outside must do so at once."
"Don't you do anything of the sort," shouted the gamblers' leader. "Stay
here like men and assert your rights! Come on! I'll lead you, and show
you how to throw these meddlers out."
"You'll do it---just like this, eh?" demanded Tom Reade.
He made a leap for the leader of the gamblers, catching the fellow by the
throat and waist. Lifting him, Tom hurled the fellow a dozen feet. The
gambler fell on one side, but was up in a moment, his right hand traveling
toward a hip pocket.
"Don't draw," mocked Tom, with another smile. "Probably you haven't a
pistol there. If you have, you can never make me believe that you have
sand enough to draw and shoot before as many witnesses as I have on hand."
"I've a good mind to drill you with lead!" scowled the gambler, still
resting his hand behind him.
"But you're a wise man," mocked Reade, "and wise men often change their
minds."
However, the very move of the gambler to draw a pistol had had one effect
that Tom ardently desired. Most of the workmen present were now in
frantic haste to get out before any shooting began. The two bootleggers
also sought to make their escape.
"Get back there! You fellows can't get out!" Harry shouted, himself
seizing and hurling the bootleggers back into the room. They rose, glaring
sullenly at Hazelton. But they didn't know how many more men he might have
behind him out there in the dark.
Tom Reade now had the six gamblers and the two bootleggers in the room
with him.
"You're a nice crew, aren't you?" he jeered, gazing at them scornfully.
"We're making our living," retorted the leader of the gamblers, with what
he meant to be a fine tone of scorn.
"Making your living off of human beings! You're some of the parasites
that infest honest workingmen. I've drummed you out of this camp before,
and you have the cheek to come back. Now, I'll try to teach you another
lesson. Harry, send in our workmen, will you?"
Hazelton stepped aside, to let in the half dozen honest negroes they had
brought along with them. These men entered, then stood looking at their
young chief.
"Get hold of those cards, chips and dice!" ordered Tom.
"Here, what are you trying to do?" demanded the leader of the gamblers.
"You have the advantage of me," responded Tom. "I don't know your name."
"Hawkins is my name," replied the chief of the gamblers.
"Hawkins is a fine name," admitted Tom. "It will do as well as any other.
I won't annoy you, Hawkins, by asking you what your name used to be in
prouder and happier days."
"What are these men doing with our outfit?" insisted Hawkins, as the
negroes began industriously to clear the surfaces of the tables.
"You can see what they're doing," Tom rejoined.
"You blacks get out and leave our property alone," warned Hawkins, darting
among them.
The negroes drew back, in some alarm, for the gambler looked dangerous with
one hand at his hip pocket.
"Go get on with your work, men," counseled Tom. "I'm here to back you up."
"As for you, sir---" snarled Hawkins, facing Tom.
"Don't look at me like that," laughed Reade softly. "Save that face to
frighten children with."
The negroes had busied themselves until they had gathered up all the
implements of gambling and had stuffed them into their pockets.
Now Tom went up to the bootleggers. Both men he boldly searched, bringing
forth from their pockets bottles of liquor. These he threw down hard on
the floor of the cabin, smashing them.
"I don't know why we allow you to do all this, Reade," fumed Hawkins, whose
face was white with rage.
"It's because you're afraid, and know that you can't help yourselves," Tom
smiled.
"I'll show you who's afraid!" yelled Hawkins, again throwing his right
hand back to his hip pocket.
This time Reade saw the unmistakable butt of a revolver. Without an
instant's hesitation. Reade leaped at the fellow. In a moment Tom had
the revolver, springing backwards.
"Well---shoot!" jeered Hawkins. "You don't dare to."
"You're right," assented Tom coolly. "I don't dare to. Assassination
belongs to the lowest orders of human beings. An honest man seldom has
any need of concealed deadly weapons."
Tom stepped still farther back, breaking the revolver and dropping the
cartridges into one hand. Hawkins made a move as though to spring upon
him, but Harry leaped into the room, confronting the gambler.
Thus shielded, Tom drew a combination tool-knife from one of his pockets,
then coolly drew out the screw that held the trigger in place.
Dropping the trigger into his own pocket, Tom tossed the weapon back.
"Catch it, Hawkins," he called. "You may want this to frighten some
children with over in Blixton. Now, Mr. Renshaw, I believe you know
what you're to do."
"Yes, sir," nodded the superintendent, from the doorway, and vanished.
"We'll take our leave, now," sneered Hawkins, "unless you have some further
humiliation in store for us."
"Just one," Tom declared, "so you can't go just yet."
"Oh, all right," Hawkins laughed fiercely. "You'll have to pay for this
unlawful detention."
"You can tell the officers all about that," Tom suggested tantalizingly.
"Mr. Renshaw has just gone to telephone for them."
"The officers? Police?" snarled Hawkins.
"Yes. Did you imagine that you could keep on defying all the laws? You've
just threatened me with a taste of the law. You may try a taste yourself,
Professor Hawkins!"
"Let us out of this place!" insisted Hawkins angrily. "Come on, friends!"
He rallied his own force of seven men and started toward the door.
"Of course you can try to get away," Reade warned the fellow. "But the
effort will cost you all broken heads, to say the least. I have placed
you all under arrest for breaking the laws of Alabama, and, before we'll
let you go, we'll break a few bones for each of you."
Outside the workmen of the camp were thronging by this time. Doubtless,
had they dared, two or three score of these men would have fought in
behalf of the gamblers and bootleggers, but far more than that number
would have rallied under Tom Reade's banner, for it is human nature to
flock to the banner of the leader who is resolute and unafraid. Besides,
there were the foremen, all of them good, hard hitting men.
"Oh, well," sneered Hawkins, "let it go at that, Reade. We'll have our
day in court tomorrow, and then. I guess we'll find our innings."
"Yes," chuckled Tom, "and when you get your innings you'll be wild to swap
them for outings---for the innings will be in jail."
"Don't push my temper too far," cautioned Hawkins with a scowl.
"Let it go as far as you like, always being ready to take the
consequences," Tom smiled genially.
There followed a period of tense waiting. After nearly a half an hour of
this a 'bus arrived, with four police officers from Blixton in it. Tom
Reade preferred his charges against the gamblers and bootleggers. The
officers had no choice but to take them, so the late troublemakers, now
amid jeers and hoots from many of the workmen, were led outside and into
the 'bus.
"You'll hear from this!" hissed Hawkins, in the young chief engineer's ear.
"I believe you," nodded Tom thoughtfully.
After the police and their prisoners had gone Tom led his own party back
to the house.
"You'd better get to bed now, Harry," Reade advised his chum. "There can
be no telling how soon I'll need to call you up, and you ought to have
some sleep first."
"You look for trouble to break to-night?" Harry asked.
"Between now and daylight," said Tom simply.
"Whee! I'd like to stay up with you."
"You might find more fun that way, Harry, but the work to-morrow would
suffer, and work is more important than mere fun," Tom answered.
Nor was Tom to be disappointed in his expectation that the worst trouble
yet experienced would break loose that night.