"So this committee," the gambler went on, "has instructed me to inform
you that your immediate departure from Paloma will be necessary if you
care to go on living."

"I can't go just yet," Tom declared, with a shake of his bead. "My work
here at Paloma isn't finished."

"Your work will be finished before the night is over, if you don't
accept our orders to leave town," growled Duff.

"Dear me! Is it as bad as that?" queried Reade.

"Worse, as you'll find! What's your answer, Reade?"

"All I can say then," Tom replied innocently, "is that it is too bad."

Clip! Jim Duff bent forward, administering a smart cuff against the
right side of the sitting engineer's face.

"Don't do that!" warned Tom, leaping lithely to his feet. He faced the
gambler coolly, but the lad's muscles were working under the sleeves of
his shirt.

Duff drew back three steps, after which he faced the boy, eyeing him
steadily.

"Reade, you've heard what we have to say to you. That you can't go on
living in Paloma. Are you ready to give us your word to leave Paloma
before daylight, and never come back?"