“They’re all ready for you, friend,” called Tom gayly.
“Listen, boys!” commanded Dave Fulsbee, as he faced the line on foot. “You do each and all of you, singly and severally, hereby swear that you will serve truly and well as special deputy sheriffs, and obey all lawful orders, so help you God?”
Almost in complete silence the hands fell as their owners nodded. Both the engineers and rodmen felt a trifle dazed. Why was this solitary deputy sheriff before them, and with what did he expect them to fight! Were they to stand and throw rocks at an enemy armed with rifles?
But just then the wagon was driven in front of them.
“Hustle the cases out, boys! Get ’em open!” commanded Dave, though he spoke without excitement. “Forty rifles and ten thousand cartridges, all borrowed from the National Guard of the State. Get busy! If the coyotes down to the westward try to get busy around here we will talk back to them!”
“Whoop!” yelled the college boys. They pushed and crowded about the wooden cases that were now unloaded.
“See here,” boomed in the deep voice of Professor Coles, “I wasn’t sworn in, and I now insist that I, too, be sworn.”
“Mr. Newnham, tell the professor that fighting is a boy’s business, and that there isn’t any call for him to risk himself,” appealed Tom. “There are plenty of youngsters here to do the fighting and to take the chances.”
“Surely, there appear to be enough men,” chuckled President Newnham, who, since he realized that rifles and ammunition were at hand, appeared to be wonderfully relieved. “Professor, don’t think of running yourself into any danger. Look on, with me.”
“Rifles are all given out, now, anyway,” called Dave Fulsbee coolly. “Now, youngsters, I’m going to show you where to station yourselves. Mr. Reade, have you seen anything through the glasses that looks interesting?”