“You’re wrong,” jeered ’Gene. “You’re out—-from this minute!”
“What do you mean?” Tom inquired, looking Black steadily in the eye.
Yet the young chief engineer had a creepy realization of just what the pair _did_ mean. Black must have confederates somewhere in the mountains near. It was evidently the rascal’s intention to seize Tom and carry him away where he would be held a prisoner until he had lost all hope of regaining his position at the head of the railroad’s field force.
“You say that I’ll be thrown out of camp very soon,” sneered Black. “The fact is, you are not going back to camp.”
“What’s going to stop me?” Reade inquired, with no sign of fear.
“You’re not going back to camp!” Black insisted.
“Someone has been giving you the wrong tip,” smiled Tom.
He started forward, brushing past Black. It was mainly a pretense, for Reade had no notion but that he would be stopped.
With a savage cry Black seized him by the shoulders.
Tom made a quick turn, shaking the fellow off. While he was thus occupied Bad Pete slipped about, and now confronted Reade. The muzzle of a revolver was pressed against the young engineer’s belt.