b.u.mp! Hawkins's sledge-hammer right hand shot out, landing on that fellow's face. With a moan the fellow collapsed on the sidewalk, his jaw broken.

Then Tom and Harry wheeled like a flash, eyeing the idlers and roughs sternly.

"Don't go any further," proposed Tom, his eyes growing steely, "unless you mean it."

Something in the att.i.tude of the trio of athletic figures standing ready before them disquieted the crowd of roughs. There were armed men in that crowd, but all felt that they had been put in the wrong, so far, and none of them dared draw the first weapon or fire the first shot.

"Take that injured man to a surgeon and have his jaw set," spoke Tom quietly. "Let the surgeon send me the bill. I'm sorry for the fellow, for I'm indirectly the cause of his being hurt. The main cause of his misfortune was due to his being in bad company."

"Come out of that hotel," ordered Jim Duff, his eyes blazing as he stepped forward, though with Hawkins's cold, hard eyes on him the gambler was careful to keep his hands at his sides. "You can't get anything to eat in there!"

"Do you own the hotel?" Tom inquired coolly.

"No; but you can't eat there."

"Join us at lunch, Mr. Hawkins!" Tom invited, turning away from the gambler. The superintendent nodded, for he had no intention of leaving the young engineers for the present.

All three entered the hotel, while the small mob outside hooted and jeered. Tom led the way to a table in the dining room, signing to one of the waiters.

Hardly had the waiter reached them when Jim Duff and the proprietor of the Mansion House came in. Jim, after saying a few words in a low tone, halted, while the proprietor came forward.

"Good morning, Mr. Ashby," nodded Tom, when he saw the proprietor headed their way. The latter looked rather embarra.s.sed, but he moved a hand to signal the waiter to withdraw.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Reade, but I can't have you any longer at this hotel,"

began Ashby.

"Any particular reason?" Tom inquired, looking the man straight in the eye.

"Yes; some of my other guests object to your presence here."

"Meaning Jim Duff?" questioned Reade coolly.

"I don't care to discuss the matter with you, Mr. Reade, but I can't entertain you here any longer."

"Does that apply even to this meal, Mr. Ashby?"

"It does."

"Very good," nodded Tom, rising. Harry and Hawkins shoved their chairs back, too, and stood up.

"Say, but I don't like the looks of that!" announced a voice from another table. There were five men seated there, all of them well-dressed and prosperous-looking traveling salesmen, who had arrived that morning.

"This is a very regrettable necessity on my part, gentlemen," began Proprietor Ashby hurriedly, and plainly ill at ease. "Some of my regular guests object to the presence of these young men, and so--"

"These young gentlemen have gotten in bad by objecting to having their men fleeced here in town, haven't they?" inquired the boldest of the drummers. "I heard something about it this morning."

"Perhaps you haven't heard all the circ.u.mstances," suggested Ashby in growing embarra.s.sment.

"We've heard enough, anyway," replied the same drummer briskly. "So these young men, who are a credit to their profession and to their home towns, are ordered to leave here? Boys, I guess we leave, too, don't we?"

The other traveling salesmen a.s.sented emphatically.

Now Proprietor Ashby felt dismal, indeed. These five men were occupying the best quarters in his hotel, outside of those occupied by Jim Duff.

It was not the loss of patronage from these men alone that troubled Ashby. Traveling salesmen have their own ways of "pa.s.sing around the word" and downing any hotel that depends largely on their patronage.

"You can have all our rooms, then, Mr. Ashby," proposed the same drummer. "We'll have our things out and be ready for our bills within twenty minutes."

"But, gentlemen, be calm about this," begged Ashby. "Finish your meals first. There may be some way of arranging--"

"There is," returned the drummer, with a smile that was a fine duplicate of Tom's own. "We know just where to arrange for the kind of accommodations that we want. Mr. Reade," turning to Tom and Harry, "will you allow me to introduce ourselves. We are aching to shake hands with you, for we've heard all about you."

Proprietor Ashby fidgeted at the side, while the eight departing guests paused long enough to make their names known to each other.

Jim Duff had vanished early, leaving the hotel man to his own humiliation.

The introductions concluded, Hawkins followed the young engineers to their room while the drummers went to their own more costly quarters and hastily packed their belongings.

Fifteen minutes later the party stood in the office and porters were bringing down trunks. Tom and Harry, keeping most of their belongings at camp, had only suit cases to carry.

"Gentlemen, I think you are making a mistake," began Mr. Ashby, as he met the salesmen in the lobby near the clerk's desk.

"We made a mistake in coming here," retorted the leader of the salesmen, pleasantly as to tone, "but we're rectifying it now. Are our bills ready?"

The proprietor went behind the desk to make change, while the clerk receipted seven bills. Ashby's hands shook as he manipulated the money.

"Dobson," he said, in a low tone to one of the drummers, "I had intended ordering a ton of hams from you. Now, of course, I can't--"

"Quite right," nodded Mr. Dobson cheerfully. "You couldn't get them from our house at four times the market price. We wouldn't want our brand served here."

The last bill was paid. Proprietor Ashby stiffened, his backbone, trying to look game.

"Gentlemen," he inquired, "where are you going from here? Won't you let me call the 'bus to take you?"

"Never mind the 'bus, Ash," smilingly replied the leader of the drummers, a man named Pritchard. "If you'll send the 'bus over to the Cactus House with our trunks we'll be greatly obliged."

"Certainly, gentlemen, it's a pleasure to oblige you," murmured Ashby, with a ghastly effort to look pleasant. He watched the eight men step outside. Duff and his crowd had vanished. It would never do to try any mob tricks on so many strangers who had done nothing. The most easy-going citizens of an Arizona town would turn out to punish such a mob.

The three railroad men had their horses brought around, but they rode slowly, chatting with the salesmen on the sidewalk.

In this order they reached the Cactus House, which, thirty years ago, had been famous in and around the old Paloma of the frontier days. The proprietor, a young man named Carter, had succeeded his father in the ownership of the property. It was a neat hotel, but a small one. The elder Carter had lost a good deal of money before his death, and the son was now trying to build up the property with hardly any reserve capital.

At the Cactus there was a great flurry when five such important guests arrived and the young railroad engineers were also most heartily welcomed.

"Our meal time is nearly over, but I'll have something special cooked for you right away, gentlemen," cried young Carter, bustling about, his eyes aglow.

"Before you get that meal ready," said Pritchard, drawing young Carter aside, "I want to ask you whether any man can ever be driven from this hotel, just for being decent?"

"He certainly cannot," replied Proprietor Carter with emphasis.