The Young Engineers on the Gulf

by H. Irving Hancock

  CHAPTER XXIII

  EBONY SAYS "THUMBS UP"

  Tom Reade stared in frank amazement at the trembling man.

  "Do you mean to insult me, Mr. Bascomb?" demanded the young engineerbluntly.

  "Insult you? The fates forbid," replied Bascomb with a sickly grin."Reade, I don't dare offend you in any way."

  "But you do insult me, sir, in believing that it would be possible for meto make any hostile use of whatever unpleasant knowledge I may possessagainst you."

  "Do you mean to say that you wouldn't use the knowledge?" demanded thepresident of the Melliston Company.

  "You're insulting me again, sir. Perhaps you are to be pardoned, Mr.Bascomb. You have been so long dancing to the fiddling of an Evarts thatyou don't realize how impossible it is for a gentleman to do a dishonorablething."

  "Then---then I---I can rely upon your silence?" demanded Mr. Bascomb,eagerly.

  "I am sorry, sir, to think that you even think it necessary to ask me sucha question," rejoined Reade gravely.

  "Reade! Reade! You can't imagine how grateful you'll find me if I reallycan rely upon you to forget what you overheard to-night!" cried thehumiliated man. "And you, Mr. Prescott---may I depend upon you, also,to preserve silence?"

  "I'm afraid, sir, you're putting me in Reade's class as an insulted man,"Dick smiled grimly. "My friend, the people of this country, in the personof their President, have issued to me a commission certifying that I amworthy to wear the shoulder-straps of an army officer. The shoulder-strapsstand for the strictest sense of honor in all things. If I depart, everso little, from the laws of honor, I prove my unfitness to wearshoulder-straps. Have I answered you."

  There was silence for a few moments. Then, Mr. Bascomb, having smoked hiscigar out, tossed the butt away.

  "I'd like to offer you a little advice, Mr. Bascomb, if you won't thinkI'm too forward."

  "What is it?" asked the president, turning briskly upon the young chiefengineer.

  "Just as long as you both live, Mr. Bascomb, Evarts is likely to botheryou, in one way or another. Even if he goes to prison himself he'll finda way to bother you from the other side of the grated door. Mr. Bascomb,why don't you yourself disclose this little affair in your past historyto the board of directors? Then it would be past any blackmailer's powerto harm you."

  "I could tell the directors in only one way," Mr. Bascomb answered, hisface growing sallow. "That would be to tell my story and hand in myresignation in the same breath. Reade, you don't realize how much thepresidency of the Melliston Company means to me! To resign, or to bekicked out, would end my career in the business world."

  In the near darkness a step sounded on the gravel. Then Mr. Prenter camebriskly forward.

  "Bascomb," said the treasurer of the company, "Reade's advice was good,though wholly unnecessary. There is no need to tell the directors thestory of your past misfortune. Most of them know it already."

  The president's face grew grayish as he listened in torment.

  "Moreover," Mr. Prenter continued, "most of us have known all about thematter since just before you were elected president."

  "And yet you allowed me to be elected!" cried Mr. Bascomb hoarsely.

  "Yes; because we looked up your life and your conduct since---well, eversince you left the past behind and came out into business life again.Our investigation showed that you had been living for years as an honestman. The rest of us on the board are men---or think we are---and we voted,informally, not to allow one misstep of yours to outweigh years of the mostupright living since."

  "Knowing it all, you elected me to be president of the company!" gaspedMr. Bascomb, as though he could not believe his ears or his senses.

  "Now, let us hear no more about it," urged Mr. Prenter, cordially. "If Ilistened just now---if I played the part of the eavesdropper, allow me toexplain my conduct by saying that I, too, was present to-night when youtalked with Evarts. I heard, and I knew that Reade and his friend heard.I listened, just now, in order that I might make sure that Thomas Reade,engineer, is a man of honor at all times. And now, let no one say a wordmore."

  Some one else was coming. All on the porch turned and waited to see who itwas. Out of the shadows came a hang-dog looking sort of fellow.

  "Is Mr. Bascomb here?" asked the newcomer.

  "I am Mr. Bascomb," spoke the president.

  "Here's a note for you," said the man, handing over an envelope.

  Tom stepped inside, got a lantern and lighted it, placing it upon the porchtable. With the aid of this illumination Mr. Bascomb read the brief notedirected to him.

  "It's from Evarts," said the president, looking up with a quiet laugh."He commands me to come to him at once, in his cell, and to arrange someway of getting out. My man," turning to the messenger, "are you going backto Evarts?"

  "Yes," nodded the messenger, shifting his weight from one foot to another.

  "Go back to Evarts, then, and tell him that he'll have to threaten some oneelse this time. Tell him that I am through with him."

  "Huh!" growled the hang-dog messenger. "I believe Evarts said that, if oldBascomb wasn't quick, he'd make trouble for some one."

  "Tell Evarts," said Mr. Prenter, "that he can't make trouble for any onebut himself, and that he had better save his breath for the next time heneeds it."

  "Evarts will be awful mad, if I go back to him with any talk like that,"insinuated the messenger meaningly.

  "See here, fellow," interjected. Tom Reade, stepping forward quickly, "I'mrather tired and out of condition to-night, but if you don't leave here asfast as you can go, I'll kick you every step of the way for the firsthalf-mile back to Blixton! Do you think you understand me?"

  "I---I reckon I do," admitted the fellow.

  "Then start before you tempt my right foot! I'll give you five secondsto get off."

  There could be no mistaking that order. The messenger started off, nordid he glance backward as long as he was in sight.

  "You see how easily a chap like Evarts can be disposed of," smiled Mr.Prenter.

  "He'll send back again for another try, within an hour," prophesied Mr.Bascomb, wearily.

  "If he does," laughed Dick Prescott, shortly, "his second appeal won'tcome by the same messenger."

  "Then you were near us, Mr. Prenter, when Evarts and the negro charged us?"Tom inquired.

  "I was," smiled the treasurer. "That convicts me of cowardice, doesn't it,in not having come to your aid at the moment of attack? I wasn't quite asbig a coward as I would seem, though. The truth is, I was behind you. HadI jumped in in that exciting moment, you would have thought other enemieswere attacking from behind. You would have been confused and would havelost the fight."

  "By Jove, sir, but that was quick thinking and shrewdness on your part!"ejaculated Dick Prescott.

  "Then you acquit me of cowardice?"

  "No," smiled the young army officer, "for I hadn't thought of accusing youof lack of courage."

  "I am glad you didn't," sighed the treasurer. "I would rather be suspectedof almost anything than of lacking manly courage. Afterwards I didn't makemy presence known to you, for, at that time, I didn't want you to know thatI had overheard a certain conversation."

  "My cowardice has made a dreadful mess of things in a lot of ways, hasn'tit?" demanded Mr. Bascomb bitterly.

  "That's all past now, so it doesn't matter," spoke up Tom Reade. "We havejust one move more to make in this baffling game, and then I fancy we shallhave won. When Mr. Sambo Ebony, as I have nicknamed him, is safely jailedI think we shall find ourselves undisturbed in the future. We shall thenbe permitted to go ahead and finish the million-dollar breakwater as a workand a triumph of peace."

  "Every time that one of us opens his mouth," laughed Mr. Prenter, "I amexpecting to hear a big bang down by the breakwater to punctuate thespeaker's sentence. I wonder whether the scoundrels back of Sambo haveany more novel ways for setting off their big firecrackers around ourwall?"


  "It might not be a bad idea for me to get out on the watch again," Tomsuggested, rising. "If I get in more trouble than I can handle I'll justyell 'Mr. Prenter,' for I shall know that he'll be within easy hearingdistance."

  The treasurer laughed, as he, too, rose.

  "My being so near you before, Reade, was just accident. I was prowlingabout on my own account, when you and your army friend passed me in thedeep woods. I had an idea that you were out for some definite purpose,and so I just trailed along at your rear in order to be near any excitementthat you might turn up."

  "And I suppose you're going to follow us this time, too," smiled Tom Reade.

  "Prenter," suggested the president of the company, "what do you say if youand I prowl in some other direction? I've been such a miserable coward allthrough this affair that now I'd like to go with you. If we run into anytrouble I'll try to show you that I'm not all coward."

  "Come along, Bascomb," agreed the treasurer cordially. "Reade, I give youmy word that we won't intentionally follow on your trail."

  At a nod from Tom, Dick was at his side. The two high school chums startedoff with brisk steps.

  "Which way are you going?" whispered Dick.

  "Let's go down to the breakwater," suggested Tom. "I really ought to visitit once in the night, despite the fact that Corbett is a wholly reliableforeman, and that he has his own pick of workmen on patrol duty there."

  As the chums stepped out from under the trees in full view of thebreakwater site they beheld the lanterns of the patrol, like so manyfireflies, twinkling and bobbing here and there along the narrow-toppedretaining wall.

  Tom and Dick went out on the wall until they encountered the first workmanon patrol. Tom took this man's lantern and signaled the motor boat as itstood in shore.

  "All going right, Corbett?" the young engineer hailed, as soon as the"Morton" had come up alongside.

  "As far as I can see, Mr. Reade, there's not a sign of the enemy to-night.But of course you know, sir, that we've been just as sure on other nights,only to have a large part of the wall blown clean out of the water."

  "All I can say," Tom nodded, "is to go on keeping your eyes and ears open."

  "Yes, sir; you may be sure I'll do that," nodded the foreman.

  Then Reade and his army chum returned to the shore.

  "I guess it will be a wholly blind hunt," Tom laughed, "but I've a notionfor returning to the spot where we encountered Sambo Ebony before thisnight."

  After they had left the beach well behind, the chums strolled in under thetrees of a rather sparse grove.

  Well in toward the center of the grove stood one tree larger than the rest.

  From behind this Sambo Ebony swiftly appeared, just at the right instantfor surprise. In each hand the negro held a huge automatic revolver.

  "Gemmen," chuckled the negro coolly, "Ah jess be nacherally obliged to yo'both if yo'll stick yo' hands ez high up in de air ez yo' can h'ist 'em.It am a long worm dat nebber turns, an' Ah'se done reckon dat Ah'se detu'ning worm to-night! Thumbs up, gemmen!"

  Despite Sambo's bantering tone there could be no doubt that to fail to obeyhim would be to invite a swift fusillade.

  Reluctantly Tom Reade thrust his hands up skyward. Nor did Dick Prescotthesitate to follow so prompt an example.

  CHAPTER XXIV

  CONCLUSION

  "Now Ah reckon Ah'se done got yo'," laughed the big negro, insolently. "Itam a question ob w'ich one Ah wantah pick off fust!"

  In his wicked joy over having both the young engineer and the army officerwholly at his mercy Sambo, his mouth open and his massive teeth showingwhite in his grin, advanced nearer.

  Yet he did not fail to keep each of his enemies covered. He was watchingmost alertly for any sign of rebellion on the part of his victims.

  Nor was there any doubt in the mind of either young man that the black,after playing with them, meant to dispose of them as his possession ofpistols indicated.

  He would torment them first, then ruthlessly "shoot them up."

  "How long are we to keep our hands up?" asked Tom banteringly.

  It would be foolish to say that Reade was not afraid, but he was determinedto keep Ebony from discovering the fact.

  "Yo's to keep yo' hands up longer dan yo' can keep yo' moufs shut!" scowledthe black man, his ugly streak showing once more.

  "It makes me think of the way we used to play football," laughed Reade,though there was not much mirth in his chuckle.

  "Shut yo' mouf, or Ah done gib yo' plenty to think erbout!" ordered Samboangrily.

  That word "football" set Dick Prescott to tingling. He knew there was somehidden meaning in what Tom had said.

  "Are you trying to signal us, Sambo?" queried the army officer.

  That word "signal" was intended only for Tom's ear, for Lieutenant Prescottwas beginning to guess at the truth.

  "On the gridiron, on the gridiron!" hummed Tom, audibly, as he triedclumsily to fit the words to the refrain of a popular song.

  Dick Prescott was "getting warm" on the scent of the hidden meaning.

  "Shut yo' mouf!" gruffly commanded the lack. "Ah doan' wantah tell yo' datagain, neider."

  "Right foot---high foot!" chanted Tom.

  Mentally Dick Prescott jumped as though he had been shot. "Rightfoot---high foot" had been one of their old kicking signals on the GridleyHigh School eleven!

  Lieutenant Dick Prescott fairly throbbed as he now understood the coveredsignal.

  "Now!" left Reade's lips with explosive energy, though the word waslow-spoken.

  At "right foot---high foot" and "now" each youth suddenly shot his rightfoot up into the air.

  Tom's landed against Sambo's right wrist, kicking the automatic revolvercompletely out of the negro's hands.

  Dick's kick landed against the black man's left wrist. The pistol heldin Sambo's left hand was discharged, though the muzzle had been driven upat such an angle that the bullet passed harmlessly over Prescott's head.

  In a twinkling Ebony had been disarmed.

  Darting low, Tom grappled with the negro's legs. Then Reade rose swiftly,toppling Sambo over backward.

  Dick Prescott bounded upon the prostrate foe, beating him with both fists.Tom also threw himself into the melee.

  While the black might have thrashed either youth alone he was not equal tohandling both at the same time.

  "I've got him, now, and he'll behave, I guess," panted Tom Reade, at last."Slip off, Dick, and gather in the pistols."

  As Prescott did so Sambo made the last few efforts of which he was capable.He had been hammered so hard, however, that Tom did not have extremedifficulty in holding him down.

  "Now, lie still and take orders," warned Dick, pressing one of the pistolsagainst the black man's temple, "or I'll get excited and send you out ofthis world for keeps!"

  Sambo Ebony thereupon dropped into sullen muttering, but did not offer toresist. Prescott, as a soldier, had a businesslike way of handling weaponsthat cowed the black man.

  Tom got up leisurely from the prostrate foe.

  "Now, you can stand a little farther off, Dick," he suggested, "and thenthe fellow won't get a chance to tip you over with any trick. If he triesto get up before he's told you can easily bring him to earth again, foryou've been taught the exact use of firearms."

  "Good idea," nodded Lieutenant Prescott, backing away a few feet. "Are yougoing to run for assistance now, Tom?"

  "No," retorted Reade. "You're going to shoot for it."

  "Eh?"

  "Fire a shot into the air from each revolver. That, with the accidentaldischarge of a moment go, will show any listener that there's trouble goingon over here. I miss my guess if the shots don't bring help very shortly."

  Bang! Bang!

  Nor was Reade's guess a wrong one. Not much time passed before steps wereheard hurrying in their direction.

  "Here! This way!" summoned Tom.

  "Are you hurt?" sounded Mr. Prenter's voice.

&nbs
p; "No; but we have Sambo Ebony here, and he's going to be hurt if he triesto stir."

  President and treasurer of the Melliston Company raced to the spot. Barelysixty seconds afterward Foreman Corbett, with four negroes and one Italianlaborer, also came up.

  "Corbett, you have the handcuffs I gave you the other night, haven't you?"Tom asked.

  "Yes, sir. Here they are."

  Tom took the steel bracelets, ordering Mr. Sambo Ebony to turn over andlie face downward, with his hands behind his back. Then the handcuffs wereslipped over the black wrists.

  "Now, Sambo," called Tom laughingly, "we'll set you on your feet andwhistle the rogues' march for you all the way."

  "Yah, yah, yah!" jeered one of the negroes who had come up with ForemanCorbett, as he gazed contemptuously up and down the bulky figure of Mr.Ebony. "Yo' done been tellin' us 'spectable cullud fo'ks dat de great wayto injye life was to be tough an' smaht, lak yo'se'f. How ye' feel erboutit now? Doan' yo' wish yo' been mo' 'spectable yo'se'f? Doan' ye' donewish dat ye' had been to camp-meeting a few times in yo' life? Doan' yo'wish ye' been honest most er de time, an' been a hahd-wo'kin',pay-ye'-bills niggah lak some ob de rest oh us? Yo' fool lump er tar,yo' boun' ter go de way ob all de wicked---down to ye' grave in misery an'sorrow. It's de way oh all ob yo' lazy, ugly, wuthless kind!"

  "I've heard philosophers talk," laughed Dick, in an aside to Tom Reade,"but I can't say that I ever yet listened to a trained philosopher who hadthe truth of life down any more pat than the negro workman who just nowgave his views."

  "On all matters of good behavior wise men of all degrees hold about thesame views," nodded Reade, "even though they may express their thoughts indiffering grades of speech. This good negro knows just where the bad negrohas failed in life."

  Mr. Sambo Ebony was marched off to jail. Even up to the minute when hewas sentenced to twenty years' imprisonment the big black stubbornlyrefused to give his real name. He was therefore taken away to prisonunder the name "Sambo Ebony."

  Evarts got off with eight years and four months in prison. He is stillserving that sentence.

  Hawkins and his crew of gamblers and bootleggers were sentenced to twoyears apiece, as only misdemeanor charges could be preferred against them.

  From the foregoing it will be inferred that the proposed jail delivery byother members of the gang from elsewhere did not come off according toplan. The truth was that the citizens of Blixton, when appealed to,organized a strong guard which was thrown around the jail. Doubtless thegang-members were warned in time, and so did not attempt to commitwholesale suicide by running against a citizens' posse.

  Mr. Bascomb is still president of the Melliston Company, and he is holdingup his head. No further fear of blackmailers oppresses him.

  Dick Prescott was able to remain several days longer---long enough, infact, to see the more substantial structure of the million-dollarbreakwater begin to go up just inside the completed retaining wall.

  Then Lieutenant Dick was obliged to resume his journey on to Fort Clowdry,Colorado. What happened to Prescott, after joining the army as an officer,is told in "_Uncle Sam's Boys on Field Duty_," the second volume in the"_Boys of the Army Series_."

  Though Harry Hazelton was disappointed in missing some of the excitement atBlixton, he had no occasion to complain in that respect when he and Tomentered upon the next great undertaking of the young engineer pair.

  After the disappearance of the big black from the scene there was nofurther trouble at the breakwater.

  Blixton is now an important though artificial harbor. With the completionof the breakwater, and the building of a lighthouse, the next workundertaken was the building of stone docks at which the steamships of theMelliston Line now dock.

  The next adventures that befell Tom and Harry were destined to be the mostwonderful and exciting of all. These adventures must be reserved forcomplete telling in the next volume in this series, which is publishedunder the title, "_The Young Engineers In The Lead; Or, The stroke ThatMade Them Masters of Their Field_."

  It is a story of almost incredible efforts, backed by strong ambition, oftwo American youths who had both the desire and the will to toilunceasingly and at last reach their goal.

  THE END