The Young Engineers in Arizona

by Hancock, H Irving

  By this time, however, the whole of Paloma appeared to be lighted up with the brisk blaze. Tongues of flame shot skyward from the burning hotel, while small blazing embers dropped freely into the street.

  "Is everyone out? Everyone safe? Anyone missing?" panted Carter, the young proprietor of the Cactus House.

  The disturbed guests ranged themselves about Carter, who looked them over swiftly.

  "Where are Mrs. Gerry and her two babies?" demanded the hotel man, his cheeks blanching.

  None answered, for no one had seen the woman and her children.

  "They must be in the house," cried Carter.

  At that instant a woman's face appeared, briefly, at a window on the third floor. Her piercing cry rang out, then her face vanished, a cloud of smoke driving her from the open window.

  "Hustle the ladders along!" begged the hotel man hoarsely. "We must rescue that woman and her children. Her husband will be here in morning. What can we say to him if we allow his wife and children to perish in the flames?"

  In a few moments a long ladder had been hauled off the track and brave men rushed it to the wall, two men starting to ascend the moment it was in place.

  In another moment they came sliding down, balked. Flames had enveloped the upper end of the ladder. It had to be hauled down, buckets of water being dashed over the blazing sides.

  "You can't get a ladder up on any part of that wall to the third floor," called the chief of the fire department hoarsely, as he broke through a thick veil of smoke. "You'll have to try the rear."

  "Where are Reade and Hazelton?" called a voice.

  "Reade!"

  "Hazelton!"

  There was no answer. A hundred men turned, looking blankly at their nearest fellows.

  "They've gone down in the flames!" called another voice.

  "Reade and Hazelton have lost their lives!"

  "That'll make their enemies happy!" groaned one man, and other voices took it up.

  "Carter," shouted one big man, running to the proprietor, "if this blaze is the work of a fire-bug, then look for Reade and Hazelton's enemies. They have the most to gain by the death of those young fellows!"

  A hoarse yell went up from the crowd. All of a sudden it seemed plain to every man present that the hatred for Tom and Harry in certain quarters fully accounted for the fire.

  "Get a rope! Lynch somebody!" shouted one voice after another.

  "First of all, let's find a way to get that woman and her babies out!" Carter appealed, frantically.

  Scores of voices took up this cry, and numbers of men hastened around to the rear of the little hotel in the wake of the laddermen.

  "We must find Reade and Hazelton, too," shouted others.

  "Then we'll lynch someone for this night's business!"

  The cry was taken up hoarsely.

  Two ladders were quickly hoisted at the rear. Almost before they had begun to hoist, the laddermen and spectators felt that it was a useless attempt.

  Nor did the doors and passages seem to offer any better avenue of escape.

  Chug, chug, chug! sounded a touring car close at hand. An automobile stopped, Dr. Furniss jumping out.

  "Anyone in danger!" shouted the young doctor.

  "Yes; a woman and her children. Also Reade and Hazelton!"

  "It's all right, then," nodded Furniss, looking relieved. "Tom Reade and Harry Hazelton have gone to the aid of the woman."

  "If I could only believe that!" gasped Proprietor Carter. "We've tried the ladders, and we've tried the corridors of the house. It's a raging furnace in there."

  Dr. Furniss looked on rather calmly.

  "I'm merely wondering on which side of the house those two engineers will appear with the woman and her children," he declared.

  For the fourth time a ladder was being vainly raised at the rear. Suddenly a shout rang out. In the basement a window was unexpectedly knocked out from the inside.

  Through the way thus cleared leaped a young man so blackened with smoke as to be unrecognizable, though it was Hazelton.

  Before those who first espied the young man recovered from their surprise, a pair of arms from the inside handed out the body of a child to Hazelton.

  Then came another child. Next the senseless body of a woman was handed out.

  Dr. Furniss was the first to recover, from delighted amazement. In a bound he was on the spot, taking care of one of the children himself and bawling to others to bring the rest of the family.

  Tom Reade, looking more like a burnt-cork minstrel in hard luck than like his usual self, sprang through the window way and followed.

  "Here, you people—stand back!" roared Tom, elbowing his way along. "Dr. Furniss and his patients want room and air. Stand back!"

  "It's Reade!" yelled a dozen men in delight.

  "Well, what of it?" asked Tom coolly, as he followed Furniss. "Was there anyone here who expected that I'd be lost?"

  "Hurrah! Where's Hazelton?"

  "Who wants me?" demanded the other unrecognizable, smoke-blackened figure.

  "They're both safe!"

  "Oh—cut it out," begged Tom good-humoredly. "You can't lose an engineer or even kill him. Doc, what's the report?"

  "All three are alive," replied Dr. Furniss, "but they'll need care and nursing. Here, help me place them in my car. Someone get in and ride with me—I'll need help. You, Reade!"

  "No," responded Tom with emphasis, as he looked down at his discolored self. "If the lady saw me when she opened her eyes, she'd faint again. I'd scare the kiddies into convulsions. A bath for me!"

  A man from the crowd quickly stepped into the tonneau of the car, ready to care for the woman and her children while the physician drove his car home.

  "Hello, Reade! My congratulations on your getting out. 'Twas a brave deed, too, to save that poor woman and her children."

  Frank Danes pressed through the crowd about the car, reaching out to seize Reade's hand.

  Into Tom's face flashed a sudden look that few had ever seen there.

  It was a look full of contempt that the young chief engineer bent on the man who had greeted him.

  "Your hand!" cried Danes, in a voice ringing with admiration.

  "Don't you touch me!" warned Reade, his voice vibrating with anger.

  "Why—what—" began Danes, then reached his own right hand for Tom's.

  "Make way for this 'gentleman' to fall!" roared Reade, then swung a crushing blow that landed squarely in Danes's face.

  The latter went down in a heap.

  There had been no explanation of the seemingly unprovoked blow, but the crowd surged forward, snatching Danes's body up as though he were something of which these men were anxious to be rid.

  "Did he set the hotel afire?" demanded one man in husky tones.

  "Did he?" chorused the crowd.

  "Lemme through! Here's a rope!"

  Then followed wild sounds that could not be distinguished as words. These men of Paloma seemed bent upon fighting for the possession of Frank Danes, who, having now recovered his senses, emitted shrill appeals for mercy.

  "Here's the fire-bug! Here's the human match!"

  "To the nearest tree!"

  "I've got the rope ready!"

  In another thirty seconds Frank Danes would have been dangling from a limb of the nearest tree. Again Reade and Hazelton sprang into action.

  "Stand back, men—please do!" begged Tom, fighting his way through the thinnest side of the crowd. "Don't kill any man without a trial."

  "You know that this tenderfoot fired the hotel, don't you?" asked one man hoarsely.

  "I've reason to suspect that he did—"

  "That's enough for us!" roared a hundred voices.

  "But I've no positive proof of Danes' guilt," Tom insisted.

  "To the tree with him!"

  "Not while I've breath left in my body!" Tom blazed forth desperately. "Come, Harry!"

  Hazelton sprang to his chum's side, the two fighting desperately to drive away the
men who held Frank Danes captive.

  "Wait a few hours at least, men!" Tom appealed earnestly. "Don't do anything now that you'll be sorry for to-morrow."

  Other men of calm judgment began to see the force of Reade's remarks.

  Tom and Harry were swiftly backed by such reinforcements that the trembling wretch was torn from his would-be destroyers.

  "Reade," sobbed Frank Danes, "as long as I live I'll never forget your splendid conduct."

  "Shut up!" retorted Tom roughly. "I don't want to have to knock you down again. It might start a riot that no man could quell."

  "Pass the skulking tenderfoot out to us!" implored some of the men on the edge of the crowd, among whom was the man with the spare rope.

  "No! We won't disgrace the town with a lynching," Tom shot back. "Wait until cool judgment has had time to do its work."

  "Bear a hand there!" roared Harry. "Help the firemen to save the next building. Follow me!"

  Thus led, the fickle crowd started to the aid of the firemen.

  "Come with me, Danes," whispered Tom hoarsely, sternly. "Keep your distance, however, or I shall lay violent hands on you."

  Once out of the glare of light cast by the burning of the hotel, Tom Reade pointed down a dark side street.

  "There's your way, Danes," whispered Reade. "Skip! Be far from Paloma by daylight—or nothing will save you."

  "Do you consider me responsible for that fire?" faltered Danes.

  "Hazelton and I went through that fire," Tom retorted sternly. "We had a hard fight to save that woman and her babies, and were nearly choked with the fumes of the coal oil with which the fire was kindled. I couldn't swear, in court, Danes, that you started the blaze, but your coat and your hands have the odor of coal oil."

  Dane's face turned pale, his legs shaking under him.

  "So, you see," continued Tom savagely, "you'll do well to escape before anyone else notices the smell of coal oil on you."

  "You've been mighty good to me—and I—" chattered Danes.

  "Shut up, as I advised you before!" rasped Tom Reade. "I've been as good to you as I'd be to a rattlesnake. Get out of Arizona before the men of this town suspect—understand—you?"

  "I will," Frank Danes agreed, his teeth chattering.

  "Don't ever show your face again in this part of the world."

  "I won't, Reade. Again, my thanks—"

  "Shut up!" Tom insisted. "Thanks from you would make me feel like a traitor to the community. Skip! Carry word to the Colthwaite Company, however, that their latest scheme against us has failed like the others!"

  At mention of the Colthwaits, Danes turned and fled in earnest.

  "That was their second attempt," muttered Tom grimly, as he turned back to where the flames still held dominion. "I wonder if I shall be as lucky when the third attempt against me is made?"

  CHAPTER XVII. TIM GRIGGS "GETS HIS"

  In another hour the spot where the hotel had stood was marked only by a shapeless mass of smoking embers.

  The citizens of the town went back to their beds. Mrs. Gerry and her children had recovered consciousness and had found a friendly lodging for the night.

  The rescue performed by Tom and Harry had been a simple enough achievement.

  Shut off from every other means of escape, they remembered the dumbwaiter that ran from the kitchen up to the floors above.

  The two little children were sent down on the dumb-waiter, Harry riding on the top of the wooden frame. Mrs. Gerry's rescue was delayed until Harry could send the dumb-waiter up to the third floor, where she and Tom awaited its return. Aided by Tom, she descended to the kitchen without accident; then Tom followed, sliding down the rope. It was but the work of a moment to break through the basement window and pass the woman and her children out to safety.

  Morning found Proprietor Carter somewhat resigned to his loss. True, the hotel had been destroyed and the embers must be removed, but both building and contents had been fairly well insured.

  "I'm a few thousand out," said the hotel man philosophically, "but I have my ground yet, and, the insurance money will allow me to rebuild., and put up a more modern hotel. Of course I'll be a few thousand dollars in debt, to start with, but after a short while I'll have earned the money that I've lost."

  "Why did you smile when poor Carter was talking about his loss?" demanded Harry, as the chums strolled away in search of breakfast.

  "Did I?" asked Tom, looking suddenly very, sober.

  "There was a broad grin on your face?"

  "Carter didn't see it, did he?"

  "I don't know; but why, the grin, Tom?"

  "I'll tell you after I see what answer I receive to a telegram that I've sent."

  "Tom Reade, you always were provoking!"

  "Now I'm doubly so, eh?"

  "Oh, well, I don't care," muttered Harry. "I can wait; I'm not very nosey."

  By noon General Manager Ellsworth arrived on the scene of the labors of the young engineers, out at the site of the big quicksand.

  "You can run the work here this afternoon, Harry," Tom declared. "I shall want to put in my time with Mr. Ellsworth."

  "Was he the answer to your telegram?"

  Tom offered no further information, but hurried away to meet the general manager, who had come out to camp in an automobile hired at Paloma. Manager and chief engineer now toured slowly toward town, Harry watching them as long as they were in sight.

  "Tom has something big in the wind," muttered Hazelton. "It must be something about the hotel fire. What can it be? At any rate, I'll wager it's something that pleases my chum wonderfully."

  Nor did Tom return until late in the afternoon. He came back alone.

  "Well?" demanded Harry.

  "Yes," nodded Tom. "It's well."

  "What is?"

  "The game."

  "What is the game?"

  "When you hear about it—" Reade began.

  "Yes, yes—"

  "Then you'll know."

  "Tom Reade, do you know, I believe I'm quite ready and willing to thrash you?" cried Harry in exasperation.

  "Please don't," Tom begged.

  "Then tell me what you've been so mightily mysterious about."

  "I will," returned Reade. "I'd have told you hours ago, Harry, only I'm afraid you would have been demoralized with disappointment if the thing had failed to go through. Harry, to-day I've been meddling in other people's business. Congratulate me! I put it through without getting myself thumped or even disliked, by anyone. Both sides to the deal are 'tickled to death,' as the saying runs."

  "You said you were going to tell me," remarked Hazelton, trying hard to restrain his curiosity for a minute or two longer.

  "Sit down and listen," Tom urged his chum, handing him a chair in their little shack of an office.

  Then, indeed, Tom did pour forth the whole story. As Harry listened a broad grin of contentment appeared on his face, for one of Hazelton's lovable weaknesses was his desire to see other people get ahead.

  Just as Tom finished, a figure darkened the doorway.

  "I'm ready to go, sir," announced Tim Griggs.

  "Go where?" inquired Harry.

  "I've fired Griggs," observed Tom Reade.

  "What! After all that he did for you the other night?" demanded Hazelton, aghast. "After the man saved your—"

  "Oh, I'm quite satisfied to be fired, Mr. Hazelton," Tim Griggs broke in. "In fact, I'm very grateful to Mr. Reade. He has certainly given me a big boost forward in the world."

  "What are you going to do now, Griggs?" Harry asked.

  "You'd better address him as 'Mr. Griggs,' Harry," Tom hinted. "He is a foreman now, at six dollars a day, and entitled to his Mister."

  "Foreman?" Harry repeated, while Gregg's grin broadened.

  "Yes," Tom continued. "Mr. Griggs is to be foreman on the new job that I've just been telling you about in town. After this, if Mr. Griggs is careful to behave himself, he's likely always to be a foreman on some job or other for th
e A., G. & N. M."

  Harry sprang forward, seizing the hand of Tim Griggs and shaking it with enthusiasm.

  "Bully old Griggs! Lucky old Griggs!" Hazelton bubbled forth. "Mr. Griggs, you'll believe from now on what I've always believed—that it's a great piece of luck in itself to be one of Tom Reade's friends."

  "It surely has been great luck for me, sir," Griggs answered. "The best part of all," he added, with a husky note in his voice, "is what it means to that little girl of mine. When I get into town to-night I in going to sit down and write that little daughter a long letter all about the grand news. She'll be proud of her dad's good luck! She's only eight years old, but she's a great little reader, and she writes me letters longer than my own."

  "If you'll wait a minute, Mr. Griggs," proposed Tom, "we'll be able to give you a ride into town. The general manager gave me authority to rent and use an automobile after this. It's out there waiting now."

  The new foreman gratefully accepted the invitation. Within five minutes the chauffeur had stopped the car in Paloma and Tim Griggs got out to go to his new boarding place in the town.

  "God bless you, Mr. Reade!" he said huskily, holding out his band. "You've done a lot for me—and my little girl!"

  "No more than you've done for me," smiled Tom. "Anyway, you haven't received more than you deserve, and you never will in this little old world of ours."

  "I don't know about that," replied the new foreman, a sudden flush rising to his weather-beaten face. "It all seems too good to be true."

  "You'll find it to be true enough when you draw your next pay, Griggs," laughed Tom. "Then you'll realize that you aren't dreaming. In the meantime your dinner is getting cold at your boarding place. Don't let your new job spoil your appetite."

  When Tom and Harry rode into town at noon the following day they beheld a scene of great activity at the site of the destroyed Cactus House. All the blackened debris had been carted away during the morning by a large force of men. Now, derricks lay in place, to be erected in the afternoon. A steam shovel had been all but installed and a large stationary engine rested on nearly completed foundations.

  George Ashby, proprietor of the Mansion House, who had dared, during the last two days, to show himself a little more openly on the streets of Paloma, halted just as Tom and Harry stepped out of the automobile to look over the scene of Foreman Griggs's morning labors.