them to-morrow. Come along. Clear the stairs, if you please, men!"

Tom was now once more in control, as fully as though he had his force of
toilers out on the desert at the Man-killer quicksand.

So, after a few minutes, all were in the street. Here fully two hundred
more of the railroad men, many of them armed with stakes and other crude
weapons, held back a crowd of Paloma residents who swarmed curiously
about.

"Let me through, men. Let me through, I tell you!" insisted the voice
of Harry Hazelton, as that young assistant engineer struggled with the
crowd.

Then, on being recognized, Harry was allowed to reach the side of his
chum.

"Mr. Reade!" called a husky-toned voice, "won't you order your men to
let me through to see you? I want to talk with you about tonight's
outrage."

Tom recognized the speaker as a man named Beasley, one of Paloma's most
upright and courageous citizens.

"Let Mr. Beasley through," Tom called. "Don't block the streets, men.
Remember, we've no right to do that."

A resounding cheer ascended at the sound of Tom's voice. In the light
of the lanterns Tom was seen to be signaling with his hands for quiet,
and the din soon died down.