Tom stepped hastily outside, glancing eastward, where they saw what the
superintendent had described. One of the tents had just been raised,
though the pitching of it had not yet been thoroughly done.

"What crowd is that?" Reade asked. "Who is at the head of it?"

"I see one man there--the only man in good clothes--who looks like Jim
Duff," replied the superintendent, using his field glasses.

"The gambler?" asked Tom sharply.

"The same."

"He's pitching his tent on the railroad's dirt, isn't he!"

"Yes, sir."

"Come along. We'll have a look at that place."

A few minutes of brisk walking brought the young engineers, the
superintendent and the three foremen to the spot.

Tent number one had been pitched. It was a circular tent, some forty
feet in diameter. The second tent, only a little smaller, was now being
hoisted.

"Who's in charge of this work?" asked Tom in his usual pleasant tone.

"My manager, Mr. Bemis--Dock Bemis," answered Jim Duff suavely, as he