The gang-master obeyed.
"We'll see if we can't put a complete stop to this sort of thing," Reade muttered.
"Now, do you think it's going to be well to interfere so much with the movements of the men?" asked President Bascomb, in an undertone. "I am afraid that you'll only start more dissatisfaction and more treachery among them."
"This having liquor in camp is going to be stopped, sir," Tom insisted. "A keg of liquor will demoralize a whole campful of men like these. They are an excitable lot, and they go crazy when there's any liquor around. If we don't put a stop to it, then there'll be fights, and then a few murders are most likely to follow. I've had plenty of experience with men such as we have here, and the stopping of liquor in camp means our only safety, and our only chance to have our work well done. Come along; let the gang-master follow us."
Tom went directly up to a group of workmen who had been looking curiously on. Most of them were Italians, but there were a few negroes present.
"Now; men, gather around me," Tom requested. "I want to talk to you.
Come close."
As they did so Reade rested a hand on the shoulder of a negro.
"My friend," said Tom, "you've been drinking to-night."
"No, sah, boss! 'Deed I hasn't," replied the negro, earnestly.
"Man, don't you think I have a nose?" Tom demanded, dryly. "Every time you open your mouth I smell the fumes of the stuff. There are other men in this group, too, who have been drinking. I want you all to realize that this sort of thing must stop in this camp. We don't want fights and killings, nor do we want men who wake up so seedy in the morning that they can't do a proper day's work. As I look about me I see at least eight men who have been drinking this evening. That shows me that some one has been bringing liquor into the camp."