l, are you?" Tom inquired
in a mild tone.

"You'll find out, if you don't vamoose right along. One---two---"

"Stop it," Tom commanded, without raising his voice. "You may
think you could get your pistol out in time to use it. Try it,
and you'll learn how quickly I can jump on you and grab you.
Try to draw your weapon, or even to shift your position ever so
little, and I'll show you a trick that may possibly surprise you."

There was no trace of braggadocio in Tom Reade's quiet voice, but
Leon knew, instantly, that the young engineer could and would be as
good as his word.

"Take your hand away from the butt of your pistol," came Tom's
next command.

Something in the look of the young engineer's eyes compelled the
angry cook to obey.

"Now, unbuckle your belt and hand it to me, revolver and all."

"I'll-----" Leon flared up, but Tom interrupted him.

"Exactly, my friend. You'll be very wise if you do, and very
sorry if you don't!"

White with rage Leon unbuckled his belt. Then he handed it out,
slowly. He was prepared to leap upon the young engineer like
a panther, but Tom was watching alertly. He received the belt
with his left hand, holding his right hand clenched ready for
"business."

"Thank you," said Tom quietly. "Now, you may return to your work.
I'm ready to forget this, Leon, if you are."

Leon glared speechlessly at his conqueror. This cook had lived
in some of the roughest of mining camps, and had the reputation
of being dangerous when angry.

From outside came an appreciative chuckle. Then Jim Ferrers stepped
into the shack.

"So you were hanging about, ready to back up the kid?" demanded
the cook.

"I? Oh, no," chuckled Jim. "Leon, when you've known Mr. Reade
as long and as well as I do you'll understand that he doesn't ask
or need any backing. Mr. Reade wants only what's right---but he's
going to have it if he has to move a township."

Tom departed, swinging the belt and revolver from his right hand.

"I'm through here," muttered Leon, snatching off his apron. "That
is, just as soon as I've squared up accounts with that kid."

"Then you'd better put your apron on again," Jim drawled, humorously.
"It takes longer than you've got left to live when any one goes
after Tom Reade to get even."

"Jim Ferrers, you know me well enough," remarked Leon, reaching for
his hat. "Most times I'm peaceable, but when I get started I'm a
bad man."

"Exactly," nodded Jim undisturbed.