"Is he?" asked the gang-master.

"Yes, he is," Tom declared, bluntly. "Now, where did the man get the liquor."

"I do not know," replied the gang-master, shrugging his shoulders.

"Then it's your business to know---if he got his liquor in camp. We won't allow any of that stuff in camp, and you gang-masters all know that."

"I can't stop a man from going to town to get liquor," argued the gang-master.

"No; you can't," Tom admitted. "Neither can I. But it's your duty, gang-master, to see that no liquor is brought back into camp. This man hasn't been to town for the stuff either. He hasn't had time enough to go away over to Blixton and get enough liquor to make him drunk. Moreover, in his present condition, the fellow couldn't have walked back from town the same evening. This man got his liquor in camp, and it will have to be stopped. Now, put this man in his shack; see that he gets into bed. Then come back to me."

The gang-master obeyed.

"We'll see if we can't put a complete stop to this sort of thing," Reade muttered.

"Now, do you think it's going to be well to interfere so much with the movements of the men?" asked President Bas...o...b.. in an undertone. "I am afraid that you'll only start more dissatisfaction and more treachery among them."

"This having liquor in camp is going to be stopped, sir," Tom insisted.

"A keg of liquor will demoralize a whole campful of men like these. They are an excitable lot, and they go crazy when there's any liquor around. If we don't put a stop to it, then there'll be fights, and then a few murders are most likely to follow. I've had plenty of experience with men such as we have here, and the stopping of liquor in camp means our only safety, and our only chance to have our work well done. Come along; let the gang-master follow us."

Tom went directly up to a group of workmen who had been looking curiously on. Most of them were Italians, but there were a few negroes present.

"Now; men, gather around me," Tom requested. "I want to talk to you.

Come close."

As they did so Reade rested a hand on the shoulder of a negro.

"My friend," said Tom, "you've been drinking to-night."

"No, sah, boss! 'Deed I hasn't," replied the negro, earnestly.

"Man, don't you think I have a nose?" Tom demanded, dryly. "Every time you open your mouth I smell the fumes of the stuff. There are other men in this group, too, who have been drinking. I want you all to realize that this sort of thing must stop in this camp. We don't want fights and killings, nor do we want men who wake up so seedy in the morning that they can't do a proper day's work. As I look about me I see at least eight men who have been drinking this evening. That shows me that some one has been bringing liquor into the camp."

Other workmen were now approaching, curious to know what was in the air.

Tom, glancing about him, suddenly, fastened his gaze on one man in particular. This was a lanky, sallow-looking chap of some thirty years.

"See here, just what is your errand in this camp?" Reade demanded, confronting the man.

"Is it any of your particular business?" demanded the fellow, with some insolence in his tone.

"Yes; it is," Reade a.s.sured him, promptly. "I'm chief engineer in this camp, and I've asked you what you are doing here!"

"Is it against any law for an outsider to come into camp?" argued the stranger.

"Answer me," Tom insisted, stepping closer. "What are you doing in this camp?"

"I won't tell you," came the surly retort.

"You don't have to," Reade snapped, as he suddenly ran one hand over the sallow man's clothing. Out of the fellow's hip pocket Tom briskly brought a quart-bottle to light. It was about half-filled with some liquid.

"Here, give that back to me!" growled the fellow. "It's mine."

"I'm glad you admit it," rejoined Reade, drawing the cork and taking a sniff as Hazelton slipped in front of him to protect him. "This is liquor.

So you're the bootlegger who is bringing this stuff into camp to sell to the men? You won't come here after to-night if I can find any way of keeping you out."

Reade finished his remark by re-corking the bottle and throwing it down hard on the ground. The bottle was smashed to flinders, the liquor running over the ground.

"Here, you! You had no right to do that!" roared the fellow. He made an effort to reach Tom, but Harry gave the fellow a shove that sent him spinning back. "You'll pay me for that stuff, Reade, since you destroyed it."

"How much?" asked Tom, artlessly.

"A dollar and a half," insisted the stranger, coming forward as Reade thrust one hand into trousers pocket.

Tom withdrew the hand, laughing.

"Much obliged, my friend," mocked the young chief engineer. "You've confessed all that I wanted to know. You've tried to charge me the price of a pint of liquor sold in single drinks. That confesses that you've been in camp to sell liquor to the men. I shall pay you nothing, for you're here against the law and against the camp regulations. You're engaged in selling liquor illegally. If I catch you in camp again on that business, my friend, I'll arrest you and hold you until the officers come over from Blixton and take you."

Then, in the next moment, Tom suddenly shot out:

"Harry, see to it that our friend doesn't run away just yet!"

"What are you up to?" demanded the man, as Tom stepped close once more, while Harry rested a hand on his shoulder.

"For a rather warm evening," Reade rejoined, "it strikes me that it's a bit odd for you to be wearing a long top-coat. I'm going to look you over a bit."

"You get out and keep away from me!" bl.u.s.tered the man, raising one of his fists. But Harry caught at that arm and held it. Treasurer Prenter, who had been looking on with keen interest, seized the other arm.

"You let go of me, or you'll run up against the law for a.s.sault!" warned the stranger.

His captors, however, held him, while Tom rapidly ran his hands over the stranger's clothing. As a result, within less than a full minute, Tom had removed two full quart bottles and six smaller ones from the fellow's various pockets. All of these the young chief engineer threw on the ground, smashing them.

From the crowd gathered about, which numbered more than sixty men of three different races, a howl went up. President Bas...o...b..began to shiver.

"I'll make you sweat for this!" raved the stranger.

"Let go of the fellow, please," said Tom. Then, as Harry and Mr. Prenter stepped aside, Reade added, "I'll admit, Mr. Bootleg, that I've behaved in a rather high-handed fashion with you. But I'm justified in doing it. You have been breaking the law of the state, moving through this camp and selling liquor. You represent the sc.u.m of the otherwise decent population of Alabama. If you think you've any redress in the courts, my name is Reade and you can hire a lawyer and get after me as hard and as fast as you like."

"I'll take personal satisfaction out of you!" stormed the fellow.

"All right," Tom agreed laconically. "You may start now, if you feel like doing it. I'll agree that none of my friends or workmen shall take any part in anything you feel like starting. If you can thrash me then you shall be allowed to depart in peace after you've done it."

Tom did not put up his hands, though he watched keenly to see whether the stranger meant to attack him. The stranger muttered unintelligible threats, then he turned to the laborers pressing about him.

"Men," he demanded, "are you going to be free, or are you going to allow yourselves to be treated like a lot of slaves by this boy?"

"If that's all you've got to say," Tom warned "you may as well start now."