l shirt, sombrero
and well-worn puttee leggings, he might have been mistaken for
a soldier. Though his eyes were pleasant to look at, there was
an expression of great shrewdness in them. The lines around his
mouth bespoke the man's firmness. He was about five-feet-eight
in height, slim and had the general bearing of a strong man accustomed
to hard work.

"Boys," he began in a low voice, whereat both Tom and Harry faced
swiftly about, "you shouldn't rile Bad Pete that way. He's an
ugly character, who carries all he knows of law in his holsters,
and we're a long way from the sheriff's officers."

"Is he really bad?" asked Tom innocently.

"Really bad?" laughed the man in khaki. "You'll find out if you
try to cross him. Are you visiting the camp?"

"Reade! Hazelton!" called a voice brusquely from the big tent.

"That's Mr. Thurston calling us, I guess," said Tom quickly.
"We'll have to excuse ourselves and go and report to him."

"Yes, that was Thurston," nodded the slim man. "And I'm Blaisdell,
the assistant engineer. I'll go along with you."

Throwing aside the canvas flap, Mr. Blaisdell led the boys inside
the big tent. At one end a portion of the tent was curtained
off, and this was presumably the chief engineer's bedroom. Near
the centre of the tent was a flat table about six by ten feet.
Just at present it held many drawings, all arranged in orderly
piles. Not far from the big table was a smaller one on which
a typewriting machine rested.

The man who sat at the large table, and who wheeled about in a
revolving chair as Tom and Harry entered, was perhaps forty-five
years of age. His head was covered with a mass of bushy black
hair. His face was as swarthy, in its clean-shaven condition,
as though the owner had spent all of his life under a hot sun.
His clothing like that of all the rest of the engineers in camp
was of khaki, his shirt of blue flannel, with a long, flowing
black tie.

"Mr. Thurston," announced the assistant engineer, "I have just
encountered these young gentlemen, who state that they are under
orders from the New York offices to report to you for employment."

Mr. Thurston looked both boys over in silence for a few seconds.
His keen eyes appeared to take in everything that could possibly
concern them. Then he rose, extending his hand, first to Reade,
next to Hazelton.

"From what technical school do you come?" inquired the engineer
as he resumed his chair.

"From none,