many seconds later when cries of pain and fear, and appeals for mercy
were heard on all sides.

Tom had recognized his own railroad workers, and was throwing himself
among them, doing his utmost with hands and voice to stop the brief but
wild orgy of revenge on the part of the workmen who idolized him. In
their present rage, however, Tom could not at once restrain them. Time
and again he was swept back from reaching Tim Griggs, who was easily the
center of this volcanic outburst of human passion.

"Boys!" roared Tim. "We'll want to know these coyotes to-morrow. Black
the left eye of each rascal. I'll black both of Jim Duff's."

Two heavy, sodden impacts sounded during a brief pause in the noise,
attesting to the fact that the gambler had been decorated.

"Stop all this! Stop!" roared Tom Reade. "Men, we're not savages, just
because these other fellows happen to be! Stop it, I tell you. Are
there no foremen here?"

"I'm trying to reach you, Mr. Reade," called the voice of Superintendent
Hawkins. "But this is a heavy crush to get through."

In truth it was. There were more than a hundred laborers in the cellar,
while the stairs were blocked by a mob of enraged workmen.

"Stop it all, men!" Tom again urged, and this time there was silence,
save for his own strong voice. "We don't want to prove ourselves to be
as despicable as the enemy are. Bring 'em up to the street, but don't
be brutal about it. We'll look the scoundrels over so that we'll know