"Dump him there," ordered the man with the lantern.

"He's stirring," reported the fighter, after having dropped young Reade
to the hard earthen floor.

"Take this then," replied the other, who, having hung the lantern on a
hook overhead, had stepped off beyond the fringe of darkness. He now
returned with a shotgun, which he handed to the fighter who had attacked
the young chief engineer in the street.

"Do you want me to shoot him?" whispered the other huskily.

"If you have to, but I don't believe it will be necessary. The cub will
soon understand that his safety depends entirely on doing as he is
told."

"Say," muttered Tom thickly. He stirred, opened his eyes, then sat up,
looking dazed.

"Don't move or talk too much," advised the man with the shotgun. As he
spoke, he moved the muzzle close to Reade's face.

"Hello!" muttered Tom, blinking rather hard.

"Hello yourself. That's talking enough for you to do," snapped the
bully.

"Was that the thing you hit me over the head with at the finish?"
inquired the young engineer curiously.