“They are not coming down, I tell you!” snarled the gambler.
“That's where you and I fail once more to agree,” replied Tom steadily, looking the other straight in the eyes. “It's merely a question of whether you will take them down, or whether I shall set our own men to doing it.”
Jim Duff had brought with him about a dozen men of his own. They were a somewhat picturesque-looking crowd, though not necessarily dangerous men. They were mostly men who had been hired to run the gaming tables under the canvas. A judge of men would have immediately classified them as inferior specimens of manhood.
So far these men had not offered to take any part in the dispute. Now Duff moved over to them quickly, muttering the words:
“Stand by me!”
As for Tom Reade, he was backed by five men, including his chum. Though none of Reade's force was armed, the young engineer knew that he could depend upon them.
Followed by his adherents, Duff took a few quick strides forward. This brought him face to face with Reade's labors, of whom now more than two hundred were present.
“Are you men or squaws?” called, Duff loudly. “I have brought the stuff over here for a merry night of it. This boy says you can't have your enjoyment. Are you going to let him rule you in that fashion, or are you going to throw him out of here?”
There came from the crowd a gradually increasing murmur of rage.
“Throw this boy out, if you're men!” Duff jeered. “Throw him out, I say, and send word to your railroad people to put a man here in his place.”