“I haven’t an idea of that sort in the world, sir,” Tom assured him. “Do you happen to know the hiding-place of the camp?”
“What do you want of the camp?” insisted Pete.
“Well, sir, since you’re so determined to protect the camp from questionable strangers,” Tom continued, “I don’t know that it will do any harm to inform you that we are two greenhorns—-tenderfeet, I believe, is your more elegant word—-who have been engaged to join the engineers’ crowd and break in at the business.”
“Cub engineers, eh, tenderfoot?”
“That’s the full size of our pretensions, sir,” Tom admitted.
“Rich men’s sons, coming out to learn the ways of the Rookies?” questioned Bad Pete, showing his first sign of interest in them.
“Not quite as bad as that,” Tom Reade urged. “We’re wholly respectable, sir. We have even had to work hard in order to raise money for our railway fare out to Colorado.”
Bad Pete’s look of interest in them faded.
“Huh!” he remarked. “Then you’re no good either why.”
“That’s true, I’m afraid,” sighed Tom. “However, can you tell us the way to the camp?”