SHUT OFF FROM THE WORLD
Five horsemen belonging to the field party rode in furiously, Matt
Rice at their head.
“It’s a shame,” yelled Rice, as he threw himself from his horse.
“I’d have stayed behind---so would the others---if we had had rifles
with us. The scoundrels kept up a fire at a quarter of a mile range.
Then we passed the men who are carrying Reynolds---they’re almost
here now---but it wouldn’t have done any good for us to stand by them.
We’d have made the other party only a bigger mark. Where are the
revolvers, Reader? We’ve got to make a stand here. We can’t run away
and leave our camp to fall into their hands.”
“We’re not going to run away,” said Reade grimly. “But I’ll tell
you what a half dozen of you can do. Hustle for shovels and dig
a deep hole here. This gentleman is Mr. Newnham, president of the
company that employs us. If the camp is attacked we can’t afford to
have the president of the road killed.”
“Mr. Newnham would do far better to ride down the trail as fast as
he can go, and try to join the construction camp,” offered Rutter.
The president of the S.B. & L. had been silent during the last few
exciting moments. But now he opened his mouth long enough to reply
very quickly:
“Mr. Newnham hasn’t any thoughts of flight. I am not a fighting
man, and never saw a shot fired in anger in my life, but I’m going
to stand my ground in my own camp.”
“Dig the hole, anyway,” ordered Tom. “We’ll want a safe place to put
young Reynolds. We can’t afford to leave him exposed to fire.”
“Where are the revolvers?” Rice insisted, as others started to get
shovels and dig in a hurry.
“Oh, never mind the revolvers,” replied Tom. “We won’t use ’em,
anyway. We can’t, for they wouldn’t carry far enough to put any of
the enemy in danger.”
“Mr. Reade,” remarked Mr. Newnham, in a quiet undertone, “does it
occur to you that you are making no preparations to defend the camp!
That, in fact, you seem wholly indolent in the matter?”
“Oh, no; I’m not indolent, sir,” smiled Tom. “You’ll find me
energetic enough, sir, I imagine, when the need for swift work comes.”
“Of course you couldn’t foresee the coming of any such outrage
as this,” Mr. Newnham continued.
“Oh, I rather guessed that this sort of thing was coming,” Tom
confessed.
“You guessed it---and yet the camp has been left undefended? You
haven’t taken any steps to protect the company’s rights and property
at this point?” gasped Mr. Newnham.
“You will find, sir, that I am not wholly unprepared,” Reade remarked
dryly, while the corners of his mouth drew down grimly.
Tom was apparently the only one in camp, after the excitement
started, who had noted that Dave Fulsbee, at the first shots, had
leaped to his horse and vanished down the trail to the eastward.
At this moment a party of a dozen, headed by Professor Coles, came
in on foot, bearing young Reynolds with them.
“Harry, mount one of the saddled horses and rush down yonder for
Doc Gitney,” Tom ordered. “Give him your horse to come back on.
He must see to young Reynolds promptly.”
Some of the field party came in on horseback, followed soon by still
others on foot. Many of the field engineering party, in their haste,
had left their instruments, rods and chains behind.
Tom, after diving into and out of the headquarters tent, held up a
pair of powerful binocular field glasses. With these he took
sweeping views of the near-by hills to the westward.
“The scoundrels haven’t gotten in at close quarters yet, sir,” Reade
reported to President Newnham. “At least, I can’t make out a sign
of them on the high ground that commands this camp.”
“This whole business of an armed attack on us is most incomprehensible
to me,” remarked Mr. Newnham. “I know, of course, that the W.C.
& A. haven’t left a stone unturned to defeat our efforts in getting
our road running within the limits set in the charter. However,
the W.C. & A. people are crazy to send armed assassins against
us in the field in this fashion. No matter, now, whether we finish
the road on time, this rascally work by the opposition will defeat
their hopes of getting the charter away from us.”
“It might prevent them from doing so, sir,” Tom rejoined quietly,
“if you were able to prove that the scoundrels who fired on our
engineering parties this morning were really employed by the W.C.
& A. railroad crowd.”
“Prove it?” snorted the man from Broadway. “Who else would have
any interest in blocking us?”
“Would that statement go in court, or before a legislature?” Tom
pressed.
“No, it wouldn’t,” President Newnham admitted thoughtfully. “I see
the point, Reade. After the scoundrels have done their worst against
us, they can disperse, vanishing among the hills, and the W.C. & A.
people will simply deny that they were behind the attack, and will
call upon us to prove it.”
“Not only that, sir,” continued the cub chief engineer, “but I doubt
if any of the officials of the W.C. & A. have any real knowledge that
such a move is contemplated. This trick proceeds from the fertile
mind of some clever, well-paid scoundrel who is employed in the
opposition railroad’s gloom department. It is a cleverly thought-out
scheme to make us lose three or four days of work, which will be
enough to prevent us from finishing the road on time. So, the
enemy think that we must lose the charter, sir.”
“That trick will never work,” declared Mr. Newnham angrily. “Reade,
there are courts, and laws. If the State of Colorado doesn’t protect
us in our work, then we can’t be held to am count for not finishing
within a given time.”
“That’s as the legislature may decide, I imagine, sir,” hazarded
the young engineer. “There are powerful political forces working
to turn this road’s charter over to the W.C. & A. crowd. Your
company’s property, Mr. Newnham, is entitled to protection from the
state, of course. The state, however, will be able to reply that
the authorities were not notified, and could not send protection
to us.”
“But we have a telegraph running from here out into the world!”
cried the man from Broadway way, wheeling like a flash. “Reade,
we’re both idiots not to have remembered, at the first shots,
to send an urgent message to Denver. Where’s your operating tent?”
“Over there. I’ll take you there, sir,” offered Tom, after pointing.
“Still it won’t do any good, Mr. Newnham, to think of telegraphing.”
“Not do us any good?” echoed the other, aghast. “What nonsense
are you talking, Reade? If we are hindered the feet of our having
wired to the governor of the state will be our first proof of having
appealed to the state for protection. Can’t you see that, Reade?”
The pair now turned in at the operator’s tent.
“Operator,” said Reade, to the young man seated before the keys on
a table, “this gentleman man is President Newnham, of the S.B. & L.
Send any messages that he dictates.”
“Get Denver on the wire,” commanded Mr. Newnham. “Hustle!”
Click-click-click! rattled the sounder.
“It won’t do a particle of good,” Tom uttered calmly. “’Gene Black,
the engineer discharged from this camp, is serving the enemy.
Black has brains enough to see that our wire was cut before he
started a thing moving.”
Click-click-click! spoke the sounder again.
“I can’t get a thing,” explained the operator. “I can’t even get a
response from the construction camp. Mr. Reade must be right---our
wire has been cut and we’re shut off from the outside world.”