"I don't believe he will," replied Tom, with his quiet smile.
"At the same time, I'll be prepared for him."

Bending to the ground, and rummaging about a bit, Reade selected
three stones that would throw well. These he dropped into one
of his pockets.

"Now, let the bad man trot himself on, if he has to," added the
cub engineer, waving a signal to the rodman, who had just halted
at the next stake.

"Well, of all the cool ones!" grunted Rutter, under his breath.
"But, then, Reade's a tenderfoot. He doesn't understand just
how dangerous a fellow like Pete can be."

The chainman started away to measure the distance. From up the
hillside came sounds of smothered but very bad language.

"There's our friend Peter again," Tom chuckled to Rutter.

"Yes, and the ruffian may open on you again at any moment," warned
Jack, keeping an anxious glance turned in the direction whence
came the disturbing voice of Bad Pete.

"Oh, I don't think he will," drawled Tom, making a hand signal
to the leading chainman to step a little more to the left. "I
hope not, anyway, for the noise of revolver shots takes my thoughts
away from my work."