Tom stood in the doorway, smiling. Black leaped to his feet.

"You puppy!" gasped Black, sending his right hand back to his
hip pocket. Tom didn't wait to see what he would bring out, but
darted forward. This time he seized the stranger in a dead tackle,
dropping him over on his back without throwing him.

"Now, roll over," ordered Reade grimly. "I'm curious to see what
you have in your pocket. Ah! So---this is it! You're another
Peter Bad, are you?"

Tom held in one hand a silver-plated revolver with ivory handle
that he had snatched out of Black's pocket.

"I wonder why it is," mocked Tom, grinning, "that nine out of
every ten dude tenderfeet from the east come west with one of
these things."

Black charged the cub, intent on recapturing his pistol, but Reade
shot out a foot, tripping him. Then Tom ran nimbly over to the
cook tent. Here he halted, breaking the weapon at the breech
and allowing the cartridges to drop into his hand. He transferred
them to his pocket, then wheeled and picked up Jake's kitchen
hatchet.

With a few swift strokes from the head of the hatchet Tom put
that firearm on the retired list for good.

"Give me my pistol, boy!" choked Black, running up.

"Certainly," rejoined Reade, wheeling and politely offering the
ruined firearm. "I don't want it. I've no use for such things"

Black took his weapon, gasped, then, seizing it by the barrel,
leaped at Tom, intent on battering his head.

"Here, what's the trouble?" cried Mr. Thurston, appearing around
the corner of the cook house and promptly seizing Black by the
collar of his flannel shirt.

"Nothing much, sir," laughed Tom. "Mr. Black has just been showing
me how bad men behave out in this part of the country."

"This boy is a troublesome cub, Mr. Thurston," declared Black
hotly. "Do you see what he has done to my revolvers"

"How did Reade come to have it?" inquired Mr. Thurston.

"He snatched it away from me."

"Reade, is this true?" demanded the chief engineer, turning to
the youth.

"Yes, sir; as far as the story goes."

"Tell me the whole truth of this affair," ordered Mr. Thurston
sternly.

Tom started to do so, modestly, but Black broke in angrily at
points in the narrative.

"The principal thing that I have against Mr. Black," Tom said,
"is that he spoiled all my drawing work of this morning."

"Yes; but how did I come to do it?" insisted the newcomer. "You
pushed me against your drawing table."