Having roused the camp, Tim ran the car back to town at the head of the swarming little army and returned to the spot where he had seized the automobile.

"It's all over now, old fellow," Tom declared to his chum cheerily, rising from his office chair as one of the whistles blew and the men knocked off for their noonday meal. "What happened last night won't happen again."

"Just the same, Tom, I almost wish you'd carry a pistol after this,"

Harry remarked, as the two engineers went to their horses, mounted and started toward town for their own meal.

"Bosh!" almost snapped Tom. "You know my opinion of pistols. They are for policemen, soldiers and others who have real need to go armed. Only a coward would pack a pistol day by day without needing it."

So the matter was dropped for the time being.

At the hotel Tom and Harry went to their accustomed seats in the dining room. Their food was brought and the two young engineers fell to work cheerfully. Just then a well-dressed man of perhaps thirty years entered the dining, room, spoke to one of the waiters, and came over to the engineers' table.

"Messrs. Reade and Hazelton?" he inquired pleasantly.

"Yes," Harry nodded.

"May I make myself known?" asked the stranger. "My name is Danes--Frank Danes."

Harry in turn gave his own name and that of Tom.

"I wonder if you would think it intruding if I invited myself to join you at this table?" the stranger went on.

"By no means," Tom responded cordially. "We'll be glad of your company.

It will stop Hazelton and myself from talking too much shop."

"Oh, by all means talk shop," begged Danes, as he slipped into a chair at one side of the table. "I shall enjoy it, for I am interested in you both. In fact, I took the liberty of asking the waiter to point you gentlemen out to me."

"So?" Tom inquired.

Danes had the appearance of being a well-to-do easterner, and announced himself as a resident of Baltimore.

For some minutes the three chatted pleasantly, Harry, however, doing most of the talking for the engineers. When Tom spoke it was generally to put some question.

"Do you ever permit visitors to go out to the Man-killer?" Danes inquired toward the end of the meal.

"Sometimes," Tom answered.

"I shall be very grateful if you will accord me that privilege."

"We shall be very glad to invite you out there some time," Tom answered pleasantly.

"To-day?" pressed the stranger. "I have nothing to do this afternoon."

"Some other day would suit better, if you can arrange it conveniently,"

Reade suggested, as he rose.

Then they left Danes, securing their horses and riding back over the scorching desert.

"How do you like Danes?" Harry asked, after they had ridden some distance. "He seems a very pleasant fellow."

"Very pleasant," Tom nodded.

"Why didn't you let him come along?"

"Because I don't like Danes' employers."

"His employers?" Harry repeated, puzzled.

"Yes; he is employed by the Colthwaite Company."

"What?" Hazelton started in astonishment. "How do you know that, Tom?"

"I don't know it, but I'm sure of it, just the same," was Reade's answer.

"It maybe so," Harry agreed. "What makes you suspect him?"

"Well, in the first place, Danes, if that's his name--said he hailed from Baltimore. Yet he had none of that soft, delightful southern accent that you and I have noticed in the voices of real southern men. Danes uses two or three words, at times, that are distinctly Chicago slang.

Moreover, I'm certain that the man knows a good deal about engineering work, though he won't admit it."

"We'll have to watch him, then," muttered Harry.

"We don't need to tell him anything, nor do we need to bring him out here to see how we are filling in the Man-killer. If we don't tell Danes much he may not last long. The Colthwaite people ought soon to grow tired of keeping agents here who don't succeed in hindering our work."

"Whew! I shall be glad of a sleep to-night, after all the excitement of last night," declared Hazelton, as the young engineers rode into Paloma at the close of the day's work.

On the porch, lolling in a reclining chair with his feet elevated to the railing, sat Frank Danes.

"Back from toil, gentlemen?" was his pleasant greeting.

"Long enough to get sufficient sleep to carry us through to-morrow," was Tom Reade's unruffled response.

"You do look tired," a.s.sented Danes, rising and coming toward them. "Yet I hear that, personally, you don't have hard work to do."

"We don't work at all, if you take that view of it," Harry retorted.

"Yet there's a thing called responsibility, and many wise men have declared that it takes more out of a man than hours of toiling with pick and shovel."

"Oh, I can believe that's so," agreed Danes. "Going into dinner now?"

"After a bath and a change of clothing," Tom replied.

"Then, if you really don't mind, I'll wait and dine at the same table with you."

"If you can wait that long we shall be charmed to have your company,"

Tom a.s.sured him as the young engineers stepped inside.

Frank Danes half started as they left him.

"Reade's tone sounded a bit peculiar," muttered the newcomer to himself.

"I wonder why? Perhaps I have forced myself a little too much upon him and Reade has taken a dislike to me."