come down
and be moved, but I have no personal feeling in the matter. How soon can
you get your tents down?"

"They are not coming down, I tell you!" snarled the gambler.

"That's where you and I fail once more to agree," replied Tom steadily,
looking the other straight in the eyes. "It's merely a question of
whether you will take them down, or whether I shall set our own men to
doing it."

Jim Duff had brought with him about a dozen men of his own. They were
a somewhat picturesque-looking crowd, though not necessarily dangerous
men. They were mostly men who had been hired to run the gaming tables
under the canvas. A judge of men would have immediately classified them
as inferior specimens of manhood.

So far these men had not offered to take any part in the dispute. Now
Duff moved over to them quickly, muttering the words:

"Stand by me!"

As for Tom Reade, he was backed by five men, including his chum. Though
none of Reade's force was armed, the young engineer knew that he could
depend upon them.

Followed by his adherents, Duff took a few quick strides forward. This
brought him face to face with Reade's labors, of whom now more than two
hundred were present.

"Are you men or squaws?" called, Duff loudly. "I have brought the stuff
over here for a merry night of it. This boy says you can't have your
enjoyment. Are you going to let him rule you in that fashion, or are you
going to throw him out of here?"

There came from the crowd a gradually increasing murmur of rage.

"Throw this boy out, if you're men!" Duff jeered. "Throw him out, I say,
and send word to your railroad people to put a man here in his place."

The murmurs increased, especially from the Mexicans, for the Mexican
peon, or laborer, is often a furious gambler who will stake even the
shirt on his back.

Foreman Mendoza, who understood his own people, started forward, but
Tom, with a signal, caused him to halt.

"Throw him out, I say!" yelled Duff shrilly. "Duff, I'm afraid you're
making a fool of yourself," remarked Tom, stepping forward, smiling
cheerfully.

Yet another murmur, now growing to a yell, rose from some of the men--a
few of the men, too, who were not Mexicans, and a half-hearted rush was
made in the young engineer's direction.

"Throw him out! Hustle the boy out!" Duff urged.

"Stop! Stop right in your tracks!" thundered Tom Reade, taking still
another step toward the now angrier crowd. "Men, listen to me, and
you'll get