sand.

Grip! Mr. Payson had a strong hold on the collar of the assistant
engineer.

"Let go of me!" commanded Harry.

"You can't go out there, Mr. Hazelton. No more lives are to be wasted."

"Let go of me, I tell you!"

"No, sir!" insisted Foreman Payson firmly.

"Let go of me, or I'll fight you!"

"You'll have to fight, then," retorted Payson doggedly, maintaining his
grip on the lad's coat collar. "Comeback here!"

Aided by another man, the foreman dragged Hazelton back to the platform.

"Payson, I'll discharge you, if you interfere with me!" stormed
Hazelton.

"Don't be a fool, sir. You can't help Mr. Reade. Be cool, sir. Keep your
head and direct us like a man of sense."

"Be a man of sense, and see my chum going under the sands of the
Man-killer?" flared Hazelton.

He made a bound, doubling his fists threateningly. Then three or four
men, at a sign from Payson, seized the young assistant engineer and
threw him to the ground.

"Tom," called Harry, "order these fools to let me go."

Reade, however, who had just pulled in all the slack of the rawhide
lariat, and had made it fast about his own left arm, seemed wholly
unaware of his own great peril.

Tom Reade was now submerged to his waistline in the engulfing sand.

Unless rescued within five minutes the young chief engineer was plainly
doomed to be swallowed up in the treacherous sands of the Man-killer.
Only a few seconds below the shifting level of the sand would be enough
to smother the life out of him. Scores of strong men, powerless to help,
watched hopelessly within a few yards of the two whose lives were being
slowly but surely snuffed out.

The laborer, whose carelessness or ignorance had caused all the trouble,
was now in the sand up to his mouth. The agonized watchers could see him
gradually sinking further.

"Keep up your nerve, friend!" called Tom, in cool encouragement. "We'll
soon have you out of that."

Gripping the lariat with both bands, Tom gave a strong, sudden wrench
and succeeded in drawing the imperiled man out of the sand a few inches.

Then the poor fellow began to settle again moaning piteously as he saw a
hideous death staring him in the face.

Tom Reade's own face was deathly white from a realization of the other's
peril. Of his own danger the young chief engineer had not once stopped
to think.

Harry Hazelton was again on his feet. That much Foreman Payson had
permitted, but strong-armed laborers stood on eith