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Updated: June 21, 2025
"Yes; wait until one of our fellows is badly hit. Then you can take up his rifle and move into his place on the line. When you're hit, then I can have the rifle." Hazelton made a face, though he said nothing. Meanwhile Fulsbee's assistant, the man who had driven the wagon into camp, stood silent, motionless, behind the canvas-covered object in the bushes just behind the engineer's fighting line.
"Come along, Dave, and see if that job as chief detective is open today," urged Tom, drawing one arm through Fulsbee's. "If you're interested in knowing the news, sheriff, you might wait." "I'll " ground out Grease, gritting his teeth and clenching one fist. Tom waited patiently for the county officer to finish. Then, as he didn't go further, Reade rejoined, half mockingly: "Exactly, sheriff.
"Who do you suppose is holding the white cloth?" chuckled Tom. "I can't guess," Harry confessed. "Our old and dangerous friend Peter," Tom laughed. "Bad Pete!" "No; Scared Pete." There was a sudden twinkle in Hazelton's eyes as he espied Dave Fulsbee's rifle lying on the ground beside the machine gun. In another instant Harry had that rifle and was back at Tom's side.
Not until he reached camp did he come upon Fulsbee's men. These he hustled out to find Tom. Two hours later Reade came back over the trail, at a slow jog. The young chief engineer looked more worried than Hazelton had ever seen his chum look before. A number of days passed, days full of worry for the young chief engineer. Yet, outwardly, Tom Reade was as good-humored and cheery as ever.
"Now, if one of you galoots dares to fire before he gets the word," sounded Dave Fulsbee's warning voice in the ominous calm that followed, "I'll snatch the offender out of the line and give him a good, sound spanking. The only man for me is the man who has the nerve to wait when he's being shot at." Crack!
At the same time, sir, I feel certain that we can get far more protection from Chief of Detectives Fulsbee's men than from a man like Sheriff Grease." "Reade?" returned President Newnham, "it is plain to be seen that you lose no time in making your plans or in arranging to put them into execution. I imagine you're right, for you've been right in everything so far. So arrange with Mr.
Newnham. "You'll ride fast, if you go with us, sir," called Tom. "I can stand it, if you can, Reade. Your enthusiasm and speed are 'catching," replied the president, with a laugh, as he started off to give orders about his horse. "If the president is going with us, then we'll have to take two of Dave Fulsbee's men with us," mused Tom aloud to his chum.
The amazed and dismayed scoundrels huddled closer together for a moment in the middle of the thicket. "Spread, men! Don't let one of 'em get out alive!" sounded Dave Fulsbee's voice. The scurrying steps of Fulsbee's men could be heard apparently surrounding the thicket. With an exclamation of rage, Black made a dash for freedom. "Stand where you are, Black, if you want to live!" warned Dave.
We don't want to shoot the whole lot of you up unless we have to, but we won't stand for any fooling. Reade, you come through first. Any man who offers to hinder Mr. Reade will be sorry he took the trouble -that's all!" His heart bounding with joy, Tom stepped through the thicket, going straight toward the sound of Fulsbee's voice.
"I don't like this place, but I'm only one human life here," the man from Broadway replied quietly, gravely. "If other men so readily risk their lives for the property of my associates and myself, then I'm going to expose myself at least as much as these young men ahead of us do." "Just one shot apiece," sounded Dave Fulsbee's steady voice. "Fire where you've been told."
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