railroad's property. It's bad business to let you do anything of the
sort. I trust that there will be no hard feeling between us."

"Hard feeling?" hissed Jim Duff, his wicked-looking face paler than
ever. "Boy, you needn't try to crawl back into my good graces after the
way you acted toward me!"

"I'm not trying to crawl into your esteem, or to get there by any other
means," Tom answered quietly, though with a firmness that caused
superintendent and foremen to feel a new respect for their young chief
engineer. "At the same time, Duff, I don't believe in stirring up bad
blood with anyone. You and I haven't the same way of regarding your
line of business. That's the main difficulty. As I can't see your
point of view, it would be hardly fair to expect you to understand my
way of regarding what you wished to do here. Your tents will have to
come down and be moved, but I have no personal feeling in the matter.
How soon can you get your tents down?"

"They are not coming down, I tell you!" snarled the gambler.

"That's where you and I fail once more to agree," replied Tom steadily,
looking the other straight in the eyes. "It's merely a question of
whether you will take them down, or whether I shall set our own men to
doing it."

Jim Duff had brought with him about a dozen men of his own. They were a
somewhat picturesque-looking crowd, though not necessarily dangerous
men. They were mostly men who had been hired to run the gaming tables
under the canvas. A judge of men would have immediately classified them
as inferior specimens of manhood.