“No!” came a thunderous shout, even though all of Reade's hearers did not join in it.
Even the Mexicans, listening to Mendoza's translation, became interested, despite their lesser degree of intelligence.
Tom continued to talk against time, though he wasted few words. All that he said went home to many of the laborers. While he was still talking the whistle of the pay train was heard.
Reade quickly sent his foremen and a few trusted workmen to head off any “runners” who might attempt to come in from Paloma while the men were being paid off.
As the train came to a stop Tom leaped upon a flat car behind the engine and introduced one of the newcomers—the vice president of a savings bank over in Tucson. This man, who knew the common people, talked for fifteen minutes, after which a clerk appeared from the pay car with a book in which to register the signatures of those who wished to open bank accounts. Then the paymaster and his assistants worked rapidly in paying off.
That railroad pay day proved a time of gloom to many in the town of Paloma. The returning pay train carried the bank officials and twenty-four thousand dollars that had been deposited as new accounts from the men. Of the money that remained in camp much of it was carried in the pockets of men who meant to keep it there until they received something worth while it exchange.
True, this did not trouble the majority of people in Paloma, who were sober, decent American citizens engaged in the proper walks of life.
But Jim Duff and a few others held an indignation meeting that night.
“We've been robbed!” complained one indignant saloon keeper.
“Gentlemen,” observed Jim Duff, in his oiliest tones, though his face was ghastly white, “you have a new enemy, who threatens your success in business. How are you going to deal with him?”