ad been driven up
at 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 to
handling 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 extreme
difficulty in holding him down.

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

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

Tom got up leisurely from the prostrate foe.

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

"Good idea," nodded Lieutenant Prescott, backing away a few feet. "Are you
going 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 accidental
discharge of a moment go, will show any listener that there's trouble going
on 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 were
heard hurrying in their direction.

"Here! This way!" summoned Tom.

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

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

President and treasurer of the Melliston Company raced to the spot. Barely
sixty seconds afterward Foreman Corbett, with four negroes and one Italian
laborer, 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 brac