"Good idea," nodded Lieutenant Prescott, backing away a few feet. "Are you going to run for assistance now, Tom?"
"No," retorted Reade. "You're going to shoot for it."
"Eh?"
"Fire a shot into the air from each revolver. That, with the accidental discharge of a moment go, will show any listener that there's trouble going on over here. I miss my guess if the shots don't bring help very shortly."
Bang! Bang!
Nor was Reade's guess a wrong one. Not much time passed before steps were heard hurrying in their direction.
"Here! This way!" summoned Tom.
"Are you hurt?" sounded Mr. Prenter's voice.
"No; but we have Sambo Ebony here, and he's going to be hurt if he tries to stir."
President and treasurer of the Melliston Company raced to the spot. Barely sixty seconds afterward Foreman Corbett, with four negroes and one Italian laborer, also came up.