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Updated: June 20, 2025
He gripped the pony's sides with his knees. "I wouldn't want anyone to see me riding in this fashion!" muttered the lad. "I must look worse than a tenderfoot. Why, I'll be really glad if Dave Fulsbee can ride back with me. I had no idea he was so near. I believed him to be at least fifty or sixty miles down the line."
"Box the chatter, Harry, and ship it east," Tom interposed, showing signs of interest. Then, in a louder voice, Tom called: "Dave Fulsbee!" "Here," answered the deputy sheriff from his hiding place in the brush. "Do you see that bald knob of rock ahead, to your left; about a quarter of a mile away?" "I do."
"Then you might spread the word that men are needed, and tell the best men to apply to Dave Fulsbee, at this camp," suggested Tom. "Be strong on the point that all applicants have to be voters in this county." "I will," nodded the sheriff, choking down his wrath by a great effort. "Dave won't have any trouble in getting good men when I spread the word. You're a mighty good fellow, Dave.
"Dave," called Tom, "how soon will it be safe to send over to the late strongholds and find out whether any of Naughty Peter's friends have any hurts that demand Doc Gitney's attention?" "Huh! If any of the varmints are hit, I reckon they can wait," muttered Fulsbee. "Not near this camp!" retorted Reade with spirit. "If any human being around here has been hurt he must have prompt care.
The sheriff of the county was approached and inflamed by some of these politicians, with the result that the sheriff hastened to the field camp, where he publicly dismissed Dave Fulsbee from his force of deputies. The sheriff solemnly closed his fiery speech by demanding Dave's official badge. "That's funny, but don't mind, Dave," laughed Tom, as he witnessed the handing over of the badge.
My men all along line report all safe and going well. Come at once." Tom's first instinct was to start and tremble. He felt sure that Fulsbee had bad news and was trying to conceal the fact until he could see the young chief engineer in person. "But that's really not Dave's way," Reade told himself in the next breath. "Fulsbee talks straight out from the shoulder. What has he to show me, I wonder!
The student engineers, wholly happy and well paid, returned to their college. The S.B. & L. is still under the same management, and is one of the prosperous independent railroads of the United States. Dave Fulsbee continues as the head of its detective system. Tom Reade and Harry Hazelton had made good in their first professional undertaking.
"You, with the black hair, next," summoned Fulsbee, his vision aided by the lantern in the centre of the thicket. "You come here, but first stop and drop your weapons on the pile -all the trouble-makers you happen to have." Thus they came, one at a time, the operator being the last of all.
"I've found 'em, Fulsbee!" young Reade cried suddenly, above the noise of rifles within a few yards of where they stood, as the engineers made the most of their chances to fire. "Turn the same way that I'm looking. See that blasted pine over there to your right, about six hundred there to the gully southeast of the tree. Got the line? Well, along there there's a line of men hidden.
"What's worrying me most of all is that I can't quite fathom in what way the W.C. & A's gloom department will plan to stop us. That they have some plan -and a rascally one -I'm as certain, sir, as I am that I'm now speaking with you." "Has Fulsbee any suspicions?" inquired Mr. Newnham. "Loads of 'em," declared Tom promptly. "What does he think the W.C. & A. will try to do?"
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