e Evarts reclined on the ground, the chums did not deem
it wise to exchange even whispers.

After another half-hour Dick pressed Tom's arm. Other footsteps were now
near. Then Mr. Sambo Ebony slouched on to the scene.

"Hullo, Tar!" was the ex-foreman's careless greeting.

"Now, doan' get too prescrumptious wid me," warned the black man, with an
evil grin that displayed his big, white teeth. "Yo' an' me hab done been
good frien's, an' pulled togedder. But Ah want yo' to undahstan', Mr.
White Man, dat I doan' allow yo' to call me Tar Baby."

"Oh, come, now, don't get huffy," yawned Evarts, who had not taken the
trouble to rise. "I'm not afraid of you, Tar."

"Stop dat!" cried the black angrily. "Yo's takin' big chances, yo' is."

"You're big and powerful, I know that," grinned Evarts. "But I have
something with me that makes me just the same size as you are, or perhaps
a little bigger. See this!"

The ex-foreman drew from one of his pockets a formidable-looking automatic
revolver.

"Huh!" grunted the negro, producing a similar pistol, "yo' ain' no bettah
fixed dan Ah be."

"We're quits," laughed Evarts easily, returning his weapon to his pocket.
"Put up your rain-maker."

"Den yo' won't call me Tar Baby no mo?"

"No more."

"All right, den." Ebony put up his weapon.

"Now, what's the programme?" asked Evarts. "You've seen the leader?"

"Yah. Ah's done see de right man. De orders am simple."

"What are they?"

"Misto Reade am to be killed de fust time he show himself," declared Sambo
Ebony. "He to be shot down ez soon ez Ah can lay eyes on him. Maybe Ah
have to shoot from ambush, but in any case he must be daid befo' de sun go
down to-morrow. Our big men am tired to def dat Massa Reade stop do men
from havin' a little liquor and playin' cairds evenin's."

"Fine!" thought Tom, with a start. "If Sambo knew how close I am he'd
carry out his orders right now! He has his pistol with him."

"An' den, if dey's any fuss made," the black went on, "Misto Hazelton, he
done gottah go nex'. Maybe Ah get cotch' w'en I do fo' Misto Reade. Ef
dat happen, den dere's anodder man ready to do fo' Misto Hazelton."

"And maybe the second man will get caught, too," suggested Evarts. "Then
there'll be two of you with nooses around your necks."

"We maybe get cotch', an' put in de jail," smirked Sambo Ebony, "but
doan' yo' beliebe nothin' worse happen. Dere ain' many guards at de jail,
an' do gang is on