The young man was well-built, dark-haired and smooth-faced, with snapping black eyes. There was an easy, half-swaggering grace about him suggesting one who had seen much of free life in the open air. For one attired for riding in saddle over mountain trails the stranger was not a little of a dandy in appearance. His khaki trousers and leggings, despite his probably long ride, were spotless. His dark-blue flannel shirt showed no speck of dust; his black, flowing tie was perfection; his light-hued sombrero looked as though it had just left the store.
“If you are Mr. Thurston, I have the honor to present a letter,” was the stranger’s greeting as he entered the large tent.
Mr. Thurston glanced at the envelope, reading: “Mr. Eugene Black.”
“Be seated, Mr. Black,” requested the chief, then opened the letter.
“Oh, you’re a new engineer, sent out from the offices in New York,” continued the chief.
“Yes,” smiled the newcomer.
“An experienced engineer, the vice-president of the company informs me.”
“Six years of experience,” smiled the newcomer, showing his white, handsome teeth.
Tom glanced up just in time to see that smile. “Somehow, I don’t quite like the looks of Mr. Black,” Reade decided.
“What is your especial line of work, Mr. Black?” Thurston continued.