big negro, insolently. "It
am a question ob w'ich one Ah wantah pick off fust!"

In his wicked joy over having both the young engineer and the army officer
wholly at his mercy Sambo, his mouth open and his massive teeth showing
white in his grin, advanced nearer.

Yet he did not fail to keep each of his enemies covered. He was watching
most alertly for any sign of rebellion on the part of his victims.

Nor was there any doubt in the mind of either young man that the black,
after playing with them, meant to dispose of them as his possession of
pistols indicated.

He would torment them first, then ruthlessly "shoot them up."

"How long are we to keep our hands up?" asked Tom banteringly.

It would be foolish to say that Reade was not afraid, but he was determined
to keep Ebony from discovering the fact.

"Yo's to keep yo' hands up longer dan yo' can keep yo' moufs shut!" scowled
the black man, his ugly streak showing once more.

"It makes me think of the way we used to play football," laughed Reade,
though there was not much mirth in his chuckle.

"Shut yo' mouf, or Ah done gib yo' plenty to think erbout!" ordered Sambo
angrily.

That word "football" set Dick Prescott to tingling. He knew there was some
hidden meaning in what Tom had said.

"Are you trying to signal us, Sambo?" queried the army officer.

That word "signal" was intended only for Tom's ear, for Lieutenant Prescott
was beginning to guess at the truth.

"On the gridiron, on the gridiron!" hummed Tom, audibly, as he tried
clumsily to fit the words to the refrain of a popular song.

Dick Prescott was "getting warm" on the scent of the hidden meaning.

"Shut yo' mouf!" gruffly commanded the lack. "Ah doan' wantah tell yo' dat
again, neider."

"Right foot---high foot!" chanted Tom.

Mentally Dick Prescott jumped as though he had been shot. "Right
foot---high foot" had been one of their old kicking signals on the Gridley
High School eleven!

Lieutenant Dick Prescott fairly throbbed as he now understood the covered
signal.

"Now!" left Reade's lips with explosive energy, though the word was
low-spoken.

At "right foot---high foot" and "now" each youth suddenly shot his right
foot up into the air.

Tom's landed against Sambo's right wrist, kicking the automatic revolver
completely out of the negro's hands.

Dick's kick landed against the black man's left wrist. The pistol held
in Sambo's left hand was discharged, though the muzzle h