After the steam whistle bad blown the breakfast call, Reade slipped away from his friends to inspect the laborers at the meal.
“There are some of your men absent, Mr. Mendoza,” Tom murmured to the Mexican foreman.
“Yes, Senor. Some of my men slipped away in the night.”
“Went off to Paloma, eh?”
Mendoza shrugged his shoulders.
“Gambling, drinking—both,” nodded Tom.
“Undoubtedly, Senor.”
“Get the names of your absent Mexicans, and report to me with them.”
Reade then went to the other foremen, with the same orders.
Before Tom had seated himself at his own meal, with Harry and Mr. Ellsworth, the foremen appeared, lists in their hands. Tom rapidly ran his finger down the lists.