perator. "I can't even get a
response from the construction camp. Mr. Reade must be right---our
wire has been cut and we're shut off from the outside world."

CHAPTER XVII

THE REAL ATTACK BEGINS

Hearing the moving wheels of a wagon on the trail, Tom looked outside,
then seized Mr. Newnham's arm rather roughly.

"Come along, sir, and come quickly, if you want to see something
that will beat a carload of telegrams," urged the cub engineer.

Having gotten the president of the road outside, Tom let go of
his arm and raced on before that astonished man from Broadway.

"Here, you fellows," called Tom, almost gayly, as he ran to where
engineers and chainmen men were standing in little groups, talking
gloomily over the forenoon's work. "Get in line, here---a whole
crowd of you!"

Dave Fulsbee was now riding briskly toward the centre of the camp,
ahead of the wagon for which he had gone down the trail. Laughing
quietly, Tom hustled group after group of young men into one long
line.

"Hold up your right hands!" called out the young cub engineer.

Wondering, his subordinates obeyed. Fulsbee reined up, dismounting
before the line.

"They're all ready for you, friend," called Tom gayly.

"Listen, boys!" commanded Dave Fulsbee, as he faced the line on
foot. "You do each and all of you, singly and severally, hereby
swear that you will serve truly and well as special deputy sheriffs,
and obey all lawful orders, so help you God?"

Almost in complete silence the hands fell as their owners nodded.
Both the engineers and rodmen felt a trifle dazed. Why was this
solitary deputy sheriff before them, and with what did he expect
them to fight! Were they to stand and throw rocks at an enemy armed
with rifles?

But just then the wagon was driven in front of them.

"Hustle the cases out, boys! Get 'em open!" commanded Dave, though
he spoke without excitement. "Forty rifles and ten thousand cartridges,
all borrowed from the National Guard of the State. Get busy!
If the coyotes down to the westward try to get busy around here
we will talk back to them!"

"Whoop!" yelled the college boys. They pushed and crowded about
the wooden cases that were now unloaded.

"See here," boomed in the deep voice of Professor Coles, "I wasn't
sworn in, and I now insist that I, too, be sworn."

"Mr. Newnham, tell the professor that fighting is a boy's business,
and that there isn't any call for him to risk himself," appeale