CHAPTER II
THE CALL OF ONE IN TROUBLE
Once Tom Reade reached the solid land he let his long legs out into a briskrun.
With his years of practice on the Gridley High School athletic team he wasnot one to lose his wind readily.
So he made his way at the same speed all the way up to the camp.
"Who dar?" called a negro watchman, as Tom raced up to the outskirts ofthe camp.
"Reade, chief engineer," Tom called, then wheeled and made off to theright, where the more substantial barracks of the foremen stood.Superintendent Renshaw lived in a two-story barrack still farther to theright, as the guest of the young engineers.
"_Quien vive_?" (who's there?) hailed another voice, between the twobarracks buildings.
"So, Nicolas, you rascal, you haven't gone to bed?" demanded Tom, halting."What did I tell you about earlier hours?"
Nicolas was the young Mexican servant whom Tom and Harry had brought backwith them from Mexico. Readers of the previous volume know all about thisfaithful fellow.
"You and Senor Hazelton, you waire not in bed," replied Nicolas stolidly.
"You're not expected to stay up and watch over us as if we were babies,Nicolas," spoke Tom, in a gentler voice. "You'd better turn in now."
"Senor Hazelton, where is he?" insisted Nicolas, anxiously.
"Oh, bother! Never mind where he is," Tom rejoined. "We won't either ofus be in for a little while yet. But you turn in now---atonce---instanter!"
Then Tom bounded over to the little porch before the foremen's barracks,where he pounded lustily on the door.
"Who's there? What's wanted?" demanded a sleepy voice from the inside.
"Is that you, Evarts?" called Reade.
"Yes, sir."
"Get on your duds and turn out as quickly as you can."
"You want me?" yawned Evarts.
"Now, see here, my man, if I didn't want you why on earth would I call youout in the middle of the night?"
"It's late," complained Evarts.
"I know it. That's why I want you to get behind yourself and pushyourself," retorted the young chief engineer energetically. "Hustle!"
Twice, while he waited impatiently, Tom kicked the toe of one boot againstthe door to emphasize the need of haste. Other drowsy voices remonstrated.
"Hang a man who has to sleep _all_ the time!" grunted Tom Reade.
After several minutes the door opened, and a lanky, loose-jointed,lantern-jawed man of some forty-odd years stepped out.
"Well, what's up, Mr. Reade?" questioned the foreman, hiding a yawn behinda bony, hairy hand.
"You are, at last, thank goodness!" Tom exclaimed. "Evarts, I want you torout out four good men. Lift 'em to their feet and begin to throw theclothes on 'em!"
"It's pretty late to call men out of their beds, sir," mildly objected theforeman.
"No---it's early, but it can't be helped," Tom Reade retorted. "Hustle'em out!"
"Black or white?" sleepily inquired Evarts.
"White, and Americans at that," Tom retorted. "Put none but Americanson guard tonight, Evarts! What do you suppose has happened?"
"Can't guess."
"No! You're still too sleepy. Evarts, some scoundrels have blown out agood part of our wall yonder."
"Are you joking, Mr. Reade?"
"No, sir; I am not. Dynamite must have been used. Hazelton and I heardthe noise of the blast, but of course we got out there too late to catchany miscreant at the job."
Evarts, at first, was inclined to regard the news with mild disbelief, buthe soon realized that something must have happened very nearly as the youngchief engineer had described.
"Well, what are you standing there for?" Tom demanded, impatiently. "Areyou going to wait for daylight? Get the four men out---all Americans, mindyou. _Hustle_, man!"
Evarts started away; toward the camp over to the left of them. As he didso Tom darted in another direction. Two minutes later Tom was back,piloting by one arm a man who was still engaged in rubbing the sleep out ofhis eyes. This was Conlon, engineer of the motor boat, "Morton."
"Where's Evarts?" Reade queried, impatiently. "Oh, Evarts! Where are you,and what are you doing?"
"Trying to get four men awake," bawled back the voice of the foreman, fromthe distance. "As soon as I get one man on his feet the other three havesunk back to sleep."
"Wait until I get over there then!" called Tom, striding forward. "Comealong, Conlon! Don't you lag on me."
"There! Do you fellows reckon you want Mr. Reade to bump in here and shakeyou out?" sounded the warning voice of Evarts.
As Tom and the motor boat's engine tender reached the little, box-likeshack from which Evarts's tones proceeded, four men, seated on the floor,were seen to be lacing their shoes by the dim light of a lantern.
"A nice lot you are!" called Tom crisply. "How many hours does it take youto get awake when you're called in the middle of the night?"
"This overtime warn't in the agreement," sleepily retorted one of the men.
"You're wrong there," Reade informed him, vehemently. "Overtime _is_ inthe agreement for every man in this camp when it's wanted of him---fromthe chief engineer all along the line. Now, you men oblige me by hustling.I don't want to wait more than sixty seconds for the last man of you."
"I've a good mind to crawl back into my bunk," growled another of the men.
"All right," retorted Tom Reade, with suspicious cheerfulness. "Try it andsee what kind of fireworks I carry concealed on my person. Or, just lag alittle bit on me, and you'll see the same thing. Men, do you realize thatthere's foul play afoot out on the retaining wall? We've got to go outthere in time to stop anything more happening. Now, you've got your shoeson; grab the rest of your clothing and hustle it on as we make for thebeach. Come along!"
Tom fairly got behind the men and pushed them outside. They would haveliked to complain, but they didn't. Some of them were larger and heavierthan the chief engineer, but they knew quite well that, at sign of anytrifling mutiny to-night, Reade would thrash them all.
"If any one is trying to blow up the wall, Mr. Reade, it's all your fault,anyway," ventured Evarts, as the little party started at a brisk walk forthe beach. "When you've got a mixed crowd of men working for you, youshouldn't interfere too much with their amusements. Yet you would have thegamblers run out of camp just when our boys were getting ready to have somepleasant evenings."
"I'll run out any one else who attempts to bring disorderly doings intothis camp," Tom retorted quietly.
"Then there'll be some more of your seawalls blown up," Evarts warned himgloomily.
"If such a thing happens again there'll be some men hurt, and some othersbreaking into prison," Tom answered with spirit. "Any evildoers that tryto set themselves up in business around here will soon wish they had keptaway---that's all."
"It's a bad business," insisted Evarts, wagging his head. "When you havea mixed crowd of workmen---"
"I think you've said that before," Tom broke in coolly. "To-night we'rein too much of a hurry to listen to the same thing twice. Come on, men.You can go a little faster than a walk. Jog a bit---I'll show you how."
"This is pretty hard on men in the middle of the night," hinted Evarts,after the jogging had gone on for a full minute. "It ain't right to-----"
"Stop it, Evarts!" Tom cut in crisply. "I don't mind a little grumblingat the right time, and I often do a bit myself, but not when I'm as rushedas I am to-night. There's the dock ahead, men---a little faster spurtnow!"
Tom urged his men along to the dock. With no loss of time they tumbledaboard the "Morton," a broad, somewhat shallow, forty-foot motor boat ofopen construction.
"Get up and take the wheel, Evarts," Tom. directed. "Get at work on yourspark, Conlon, and I'll throw the drive-wheel over for you. Some of youmen cast, off!"
In a very short time the "Morton" was going "put-put-put" away from thedock.
Tom, after seeing th
at everything was moving satisfactorily, turned aroundto look at the four men huddled astern.
"Don't any of you go to sleep," he urged. "A good part of our successdepends on how well you all keep awake and use your eyes and ears."
That said, Tom Reade hastened forward, stationing himself close to Evarts,who had the steering wheel.
Some of the men astern began to talk.
"Silence, if you please," Tom called softly. "Don't talk except on mattersof business. We want to be able to use our ears. Conlon, make your enginea little less noisy if you can."
Now Reade had leisure to wonder how matters had gone with Harry Hazelton.
"Of course that threatening figure Harry saw behind him was an imaginaryone," Tom said to himself, but he felt uneasy nevertheless.
A few moments later Reade clutched at one of Evarts's arms.
"Did you hear that, man?" the young engineer demanded.
"Hear what?" Evarts wanted to know.
"It sounded like a yell out there yonder," Tom rejoined.
"Didn't hear it, Mr. Reade."
"There it goes again!" cried Tom, leaping up. "Some one is calling myname. It must be Harry Hazelton, and he must want help. Conlon, slam itto that engine of yours!"
The Young Engineers on the Gulf Page 2
