The Young Engineers on the Gulf | Page 7

As he did so Tom darted in another direction. Two minutes later Tom was back, piloting by one arm a man who was still engaged in rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. This was Conlon, engineer of the motor boat, "Morton."
"Where's Evarts?" Reade queried, impatiently. "Oh, Evarts! Where are you, and what are you doing?"
"Trying to get four men awake," bawled back the voice of the foreman, from the distance. "As soon as I get one man on his feet the other three have sunk back to sleep."
"Wait until I get over there then!" called Tom, striding forward. "Come along, Conlon! Don't you lag on me."
"There! Do you fellows reckon you want Mr. Reade to bump in here and shake you out?" sounded the warning voice of Evarts.
As Tom and the motor boat's engine tender reached the little, box-like shack from which Evarts's tones proceeded, four men, seated on the floor, were seen to be lacing their shoes by the dim light of a lantern.
"A nice lot you are!" called Tom crisply. "How many hours does it take you to get awake when you're called in the middle of the night?"
"This overtime warn't in the agreement," sleepily retorted one of the men.
"You're wrong there," Reade informed him, vehemently. "Overtime is in the agreement for every man in this camp when it's wanted of him---from the chief engineer all along the line. Now, you men oblige me by hustling. I don't want to wait more than sixty seconds for the last man of you."
"I've a good mind to crawl back into my bunk," growled another of the men.
"All right," retorted Tom Reade, with suspicious cheerfulness. "Try it and see what kind of fireworks I carry concealed on my person. Or, just lag a little bit on me, and you'll see the same thing. Men, do you realize that there's foul play afoot out on the retaining wall? We've got to go out there in time to stop anything more happening. Now, you've got your shoes on; grab the rest of your clothing and hustle it on as we make for the beach. Come along!"
Tom fairly got behind the men and pushed them outside. They would have liked to complain, but they didn't. Some of them were larger and heavier than the chief engineer, but they knew quite well that, at sign of any trifling mutiny to-night, Reade would thrash them all.
"If any one is trying to blow up the wall, Mr. Reade, it's all your fault, anyway," ventured Evarts, as the little party started at a brisk walk for the beach. "When you've got a mixed crowd of men working for you, you shouldn't interfere too much with their amusements. Yet you would have the gamblers run out of camp just when our boys were getting ready to have some pleasant evenings."
"I'll run out any one else who attempts to bring disorderly doings into this camp," Tom retorted quietly.
"Then there'll be some more of your seawalls blown up," Evarts warned him gloomily.
"If such a thing happens again there'll be some men hurt, and some others breaking into prison," Tom answered with spirit. "Any evildoers that try to set themselves up in business around here will soon wish they had kept away---that's all."
"It's a bad business," insisted Evarts, wagging his head. "When you have a mixed crowd of workmen---"
"I think you've said that before," Tom broke in coolly. "To-night we're in too much of a hurry to listen to the same thing twice. Come on, men. You can go a little faster than a walk. Jog a bit---I'll show you how."
"This is pretty hard on men in the middle of the night," hinted Evarts, after the jogging had gone on for a full minute. "It ain't right to-----"
"Stop it, Evarts!" Tom cut in crisply. "I don't mind a little grumbling at the right time, and I often do a bit myself, but not when I'm as rushed as I am to-night. There's the dock ahead, men---a little faster spurt now!"
Tom urged his men along to the dock. With no loss of time they tumbled aboard the "Morton," a broad, somewhat shallow, forty-foot motor boat of open construction.
"Get up and take the wheel, Evarts," Tom. directed. "Get at work on your spark, Conlon, and I'll throw the drive-wheel over for you. Some of you men cast, off!"
In a very short time the "Morton" was going "put-put-put" away from the dock.
Tom, after seeing that everything was moving satisfactorily, turned around to look at the four men huddled astern.
"Don't any of you go to sleep," he urged. "A good part of our success depends on how well you all keep awake and use your eyes and ears."
That said, Tom Reade hastened forward, stationing himself close to Evarts, who had the steering wheel.
Some of the