“I shan't crow until I've seen the test applied to the roadbed over the Man-killer,” Tom replied thoughtfully. “After I've seen that test applied a couple of times then I'm ready to go before any board and swear that the Man-killer has been tamed for all time.”
“Speed the day!” replied Mr. Ellsworth, as he climbed into his private car to return. “By the way, you haven't heard anything lately from Jim Duff & Company?”
“Not a word,” Reade replied. “I don't believe we're yet through with Rough-house camp, however. They're waiting only until our suspicions are allayed. Once in a while we lose one of our workmen to the enemy, and then we have to discharge the poor fellow. Some of our former men have gone away, but there are about thirty of them left in Paloma, and I imagine that they're ready to be ugly when the chance comes. The agent of the Colthwaite Company is still in Paloma. He has been here ever since we came.”
“Agent of the Colthwaite Company?” repeated the general manager, opening his eyes. “What's his name?”
“Fred Ransom,” Tom replied half carelessly.
“Ransom? Fred Ransom? I never heard of any Colthwaite agent of that name.”
“He's one of the Colthwaite people's troublemakers,” Tom went on, opening his own eyes rather wide.
“If you were sure of this why didn't you report it to me earlier?”
“Why, I supposed your railroad detectives knew all about it. And that you had heard of it long ago,” Reade declared.
“I haven't heard a word of it,” continued Mr. Ellsworth, coming down the steps of his car and standing on the ground once more. “What proof have you of Ransom's business here?”