The Young Engineers in Arizona Page 5
"You can have all our rooms, then, Mr. Ashby," proposed the same drummer. "We'll have our things out and be ready for our bills within twenty minutes."
"But, gentlemen, be calm about this," begged Ashby. "Finish your meals first. There may be some way of arranging—"
"There is," returned the drummer, with a smile that was a fine duplicate of Tom's own. "We know just where to arrange for the kind of accommodations that we want. Mr. Reade," turning to Tom and Harry, "will you allow me to introduce ourselves. We are aching to shake hands with you, for we've heard all about you."
Proprietor Ashby fidgeted at the side, while the eight departing guests paused long enough to make their names known to each other.
Jim Duff had vanished early, leaving the hotel man to his own humiliation.
The introductions concluded, Hawkins followed the young engineers to their room while the drummers went to their own more costly quarters and hastily packed their belongings.
Fifteen minutes later the party stood in the office and porters were bringing down trunks. Tom and Harry, keeping most of their belongings at camp, had only suit cases to carry.
"Gentlemen, I think you are making a mistake," began Mr. Ashby, as he met the salesmen in the lobby near the clerk's desk.
"We made a mistake in coming here," retorted the leader of the salesmen, pleasantly as to tone, "but we're rectifying it now. Are our bills ready?"
The proprietor went behind the desk to make change, while the clerk receipted seven bills. Ashby's hands shook as he manipulated the money.
"Dobson," he said, in a low tone to one of the drummers, "I had intended ordering a ton of hams from you. Now, of course, I can't—"
"Quite right," nodded Mr. Dobson cheerfully. "You couldn't get them from our house at four times the market price. We wouldn't want our brand served here."
The last bill was paid. Proprietor Ashby stiffened, his backbone, trying to look game.
"Gentlemen," he inquired, "where are you going from here? Won't you let me call the 'bus to take you?"
"Never mind the 'bus, Ash," smilingly replied the leader of the drummers, a man named Pritchard. "If you'll send the 'bus over to the Cactus House with our trunks we'll be greatly obliged."
"Certainly, gentlemen, it's a pleasure to oblige you," murmured Ashby, with a ghastly effort to look pleasant. He watched the eight men step outside. Duff and his crowd had vanished. It would never do to try any mob tricks on so many strangers who had done nothing. The most easy-going citizens of an Arizona town would turn out to punish such a mob.
The three railroad men had their horses brought around, but they rode slowly, chatting with the salesmen on the sidewalk.
In this order they reached the Cactus House, which, thirty years ago, had been famous in and around the old Paloma of the frontier days. The proprietor, a young man named Carter, had succeeded his father in the ownership of the property. It was a neat hotel, but a small one. The elder Carter had lost a good deal of money before his death, and the son was now trying to build up the property with hardly any reserve capital.
At the Cactus there was a great flurry when five such important guests arrived and the young railroad engineers were also most heartily welcomed.
"Our meal time is nearly over, but I'll have something special cooked for you right away, gentlemen," cried young Carter, bustling about, his eyes aglow.
"Before you get that meal ready," said Pritchard, drawing young Carter aside, "I want to ask you whether any man can ever be driven from this hotel, just for being decent?"
"He certainly cannot," replied Proprietor Carter with emphasis.
"Live up to that, son," advised the drummer, "and I half suspect that you'll prosper."
The meal finished, the three men from the railroad camp took leave of their new salesmen friends, mounted and rode back to camp.
"The snakes are not all dead yet," mused Tom quizzically, as, in riding through the "tough" street again they heard hisses from open windows at which no heads appeared.
"There's a letter here for you, Mr. Reade," announced Foreman Payson, who was sitting alone in the office.
"Who brought it?"
"I don't know his name. Never saw him before. He rode out here on horseback."
The envelope, though a good one as to quality, was dirty on the outside. Tom Reade hastily broke the seal and read:
"If you don't get away from Paloma pretty soon your presence will hold the railroad up for a longtime to come! Get out, if you're wise, or the railroad will suffer with you!"
"I reckon the fellow who wrote that was sincere enough," said Tom, as he passed the letter over to his chum. "However, I don't like to feel that I can be seared by any man who's too cowardly to sign his name to a letter."
CHAPTER VI. THE GENERAL MANAGER "LOOKS IN"
Neither Tom nor Harry was stupid enough to be wholly unafraid over the threats of the day. Both realized that Jim Duff and the latter's associates were ugly and treacherous men who would fight sooner than be deprived of their chance to fleece the railway workmen. Yet neither young engineer had any intention of being scared into flight.
"They'll put up a lot of trouble for us," said Tom that afternoon, as the two chums talked the matter over. "They may even go to extremities, and—"
"Shoot us?" smiled Hazelton, though there was a serious look under his smile.
"Yes; they may even try that," I nodded Tom. "Though they won't make an open attempt. They may try to get us from ambush at night. They will be desperate, though not over brave. Recollect, Harry, that the better element in Paloma won't stand much nonsense. There are no braver men in the world than are found right in Arizona, and no men more decent."
"Barring Duff and his gang," laughed Hazelton.
"They're not real Arizona men. They're the kind of human vultures who flock after large pay rolls in any place where men work without having their families in near-by homes. If Duff had enough men of his own way of thinking, they might try to ride out here to camp and clean us out. If they did, then all the decent men in this part of Arizona would take to the saddle and drive Duff and his crew into hiding. After what happened to-day you won't find Duff daring to do anything too open."
"Excuse me, Sir, but there's a train coming," reported Foreman Rivers, thrusting his head in at the doorway of the little office building.
"Not a construction train?" Reade asked.
"Can't make it out yet, sir. The whistle was reported a minute ago."
Tom and Harry, chafing a good deal under their enforced idleness while waiting for materials, hastened outdoors. Soon the train was close enough to be made out. It consisted of an engine, baggage car and one private car.
"It's one or more of the road's officials," murmured Harry.
"I hope it's Mr. Ellsworth," replied Reade, as the chums walked briskly down to the spot where the train would have to halt.
It turned out to be the general manager, a big and capable-looking man of fifty, with a belt-line just a trifle too large for comfort, who swung himself to the ground the instant that the train stopped.
"I'm glad you're here, Reade," nodded the general manager, as he caught sight of his two young engineers. "Come back into my car. We can talk better there."
Tom and Harry mounted to the platform of the car, following Mr. Ellsworth down the carpeted aisle of a very comfortable private Pullman car. The general manager pointed to seats, threw himself into another, and then said:
"Now, tell me all about the row that you've started with the town."
Harry's lips closed tightly, but Tom launched at once into a plain, truthful account of the affair, bringing it down to the noonday meal of the present day.
"It's not clear to me just why you should feel called upon to interfere so forcefully," said the general manager, a little fretfully. "The workmen are all twenty-one years of age and upwards. Couldn't they protect themselves if they wanted protection?"
"Yes, sir, certainly," Tom admitted. "However, letting
that fellow Duff put up his tents right on the railroad property would almost make it look as though the road shared, or at least approved, his enterprise."
"Oh, doubtless you were right to order the fellow off the railroad property," assented Mr. Ellsworth. "But why did you go to such trouble to get the men to start new bank accounts and thus send most of their money out of town?"
"May I answer that question, sir, by asking another?" asked Reade respectfully. "Did you wish the men to spend it in Paloma?"
"I don't care a hang what they do with it," retorted the general manager half peevishly. "It's their own money."
"It was you, Mr. Ellsworth, whom I wired yesterday morning, asking that you send down a representative of a savings bank who could open accounts with such of the men as desired."
"Yes, and I sent you a couple of bank men. I didn't have any idea, however, that you'd get the whole town of Paloma by the ears."
"I haven't, sir. I assure you of that. I've hurt only a few parasites—a flock of human vultures. The decent people of the town don't side with them."
"I wish I could be sure that we haven't offended the town as a whole," mused Mr. Ellsworth, "The good will of the people along our line is a great asset."
"You're acquainted with a lot of the real people in Paloma, aren't you, Mr. Ellsworth?"
"With some of them, yes."
"Then, while you're here, sir, I'd be glad if you'd look up some of these acquaintances in town and find out for yourself just how the sentiment stands. We don't wish you to feel that we're a pair of trouble-makers who are doing our best to ruin the road with its future customers."
"I believe I will go into town," mused Mr. Ellsworth. "Is there an automobile anywhere about here?"
"No, sir; but our telegraph operator can wire into town for one. It will take but a few minutes to have a car here."
"Send for it, then."
"Would you like to see Mr. Hawkins while you're waiting, sir?" Tom suggested, rising. "You know Hawkins, and probably you'll be satisfied with his judgment."
"Send Hawkins along."
"Yes, sir; and we won't return for the present, unless you send for us," Reade replied, going toward the forward end of the car.
Superintendent Hawkins was closeted with the general manager until the arrival of the automobile. There was a frown on Mr. Ellsworth's face as they started townward.
"Well," asked Harry Hazelton, with a grin on his face, as he watched the departing car, "are we going to be fired or praised?"
"We're going to lay the track across the Man-killer," returned Reade resolutely.
"How about the gambler and his bad crowd? Are we going to beat them?"
"We're going to do whatever the general manager orders, just as long as we remain here," replied Tom. "He's our only source of authority. If he tells me to let Jim Duff bring a cityful of tents out here and run night or day—then that's all there will be to it."
"I'd sooner quit," growled Hazelton, "than knuckle to such a crew of rascals."
"So would I," nodded Tom good-humoredly, "if it were my quit. But, if Mr. Ellsworth gives such orders it will be his quit, not ours."
Harry walked restlessly up and down the little office, but Tom threw himself down at full length on a cot in the corner. Within two minutes he was sound asleep.
"Humph!" growled Hazelton, as soon as he saw his chum's unconcern. Then he went outside to finish his tramp.
It was toward the close of the afternoon when Mr. Ellsworth returned. Harry was out of sight as the general manager stepped directly into the office.
"Reade," he began. Deep breathing from the corner greeted him. General Manager Ellsworth gazed down at the sleeping form, and a new light of admiration dawned in his eyes.
"So that's the young man whom they're talking of shooting, poisoning or blowing into the next world with dynamite?" he thought. "A lot this young man appears to think about his enemies! There's real courage in this young man. Reade, wake up—if you can spare the time."
Tom opened his eyes, rubbed them, then sat up, next springing to his feet.
"Not having any real work to do makes me sleepy," laughed Tom good-naturedly. "I trust you didn't have to call me many times, Mr. Ellsworth?"
The general manager held out his hand.
"Reade, I've just learned in town what a plucky thing you did, and how coolly you went through it all. A young man with your courage and purpose simply can't be fool enough to be very far wrong."
"Then you learned that the real Arizona people over in Paloma don't find any fault with what I did?" queried Tom.
"Reade, what I discovered is that you have a lot of the finest manhood in Arizona just wild with respect for you," declared Mr. Ellsworth. Then the general manager lowered his voice before he resumed:
"At the same time, Reade, I've also learned that you've stirred up such an evil nest of rattlers that you'll be fortunate if you escape with your life. Candidly, if you feel that you'd like to leave here—"
"Do you want me to quit, sir?" demanded Tom, looking steadily into his chief's eyes.
"I don't," declared Mr. Ellsworth promptly. "If you and Hazelton were to quit me now I don't know where I could get another pair of men who could put into the work all the skill and energy that you two employ."
"Did you have dinner in town, sir?" Tom asked.
"No, for I came out to take you two young men in. Hawkins will also be with us at dinner this evening. He has told me about the Mansion House affair, so the Cactus House shall be the railway house hereafter. That fellow Ashby is uneasy; I think he will be more than uneasy after a while."
The dinner party motored back to town. Dinner was more like a reception that evening, for the news of Tom's plucky fight against the rough element had spread through the town. Nearly two score of men representing the better part of the population of Paloma called at the hotel to shake hands with the young engineers.
"They don't seem to care a hang about me, these men, do they, Hawkins?" laughed the general manager, as he and the superintendent stood in the background of the picture.
"That's because they're Arizona men, sir," replied Hawkins. "Their interest is in the man who has done the thing, not in the boss."
"I can understand why President Newnham, of the S. B. & L., recommended these young men so extravagantly. They're full of force and absolutely free from self-conceit."
Finally the party motored back towards the camp. As it was after dark now, some of the citizens who had visited them escorted the slow moving car as far as the edge of the town, but none of Jim Duff's followers appeared on the streets through which they passed.
"Why are we going back to camp, anyway?" demanded Mr. Ellsworth. "Why not sleep at the hotel to-night?"
"Why, I think it may be better for you to go back to the hotel, sir," Tom proposed. "As for Harry and myself, after what has happened in town to-day, it may be as well if we are on hand at the camp to-night. There may be some attempt to stampede our men. The crowd in Paloma are capable of offering our men free drink, just to do us mischief. We've a lot of strong men in our force, but there are some weak vessels who would be caught by a free offer, and some of our work gangs would be demoralized to-morrow."
Mr. Ellsworth thereupon decided to return to the camp also, and, arriving there, dismissed the car. A tent was pitched for him close to the office, and a cot rigged up in it.
Then the party sat up, chatting, after most of the workmen had turned in for the night.
"I'll be thankful when the material gets here," sighed Tom. "I'm tired of loafing."
"It seems to me that you have been doing anything but loafing," smiled the general manager.
"I want to get to work on the Man-killer. Besides, idleness is costing the road a lot of money in wages for these men."
"I wired this afternoon," stated Mr. Ellsworth, "to have the material trains rushed forward on express schedule as soon as the stuff strikes our lines."
"Then—" began Hawkins slowly.
"The scoundrels!" gasped Tom Reade, leaping up. "This is more of our friends' work! They have dynamited the most ticklish part of the work on the Man-killer!"
CHAPTER VII. A DYNAMITE PUZZLE
"The scoundrels!" cried General Manager Ellsworth.
He was a man who believed in working along easy lines when possible. His career as a railroad man had taught him the value of meeting other people half way. Now the general manager's white face and flashing eyes revealed the fighter in him.
From off to the south, beyond the quicksand, came a chorus of sharp, shrill, gleeful whoops.
"There go the curs!" flared Harry.
Another volley of jeers reached the camp officials.
"They are mounted on horses," spoke Tom judicially. "They couldn't travel as fast on foot and yell at the same time."
A third taunting chorus traveled over the desert. But Tom and his friends, in the darkness of the night, could not make out the horsemen nor judge how many there were of them.
"You'd better turn out the camp, Mr. Hawkins," directed Tom in a calmer voice.
The superintendent ran over to where a night engineer almost dozed at his post beside a stationary engine.
Half a minute later a series of shrill blasts rang out over the camp. Laborers came tumbling out of the tents. Many of them had slept so soundly that even the noise of dynamiting they had regarded only as a part of their dreams. But the whistle meant business.
"Get the torches out, Mr. Rivers," called Tom, as one of the foremen reported on a run.
To Foreman Payson, Harry gave the order to marshal a hundred of the men to remain in and around the camp, alertly watchful.
"That's a good idea," nodded Mr. Ellsworth. "The explosion may be only a trick to, empty the camp, as a prelude to further mischief."
Scores of torches flared in the darkness as the workmen hurried westward. At the head of all went Tom Reade and the general manager.
Less than half a mile away they came upon the scene of mischief.