Part 16 (1/2)

”Come back, Mr. Reade!” implored Foreman Payson.

For Tom, who had made two casts with the lariat and failed, was knee-deep in s.h.i.+fting sand himself.

”Keep cool!” the young chief engineer called over his shoulder. ”I'll be back--both of us in a minute or two.”

The hapless laborer was now engulfed to his neck in the quicksand.

”Save me! In Heaven's name get me out of this!” begged the poor fellow, frenzied by dread of his seemingly sure fate.

”I'm doing the best I can, friend!” Tom called, as he made a fresh cast.

This time the noose of the raw-hide lariat dropped over the laborer's head.

”Fight your hands free, man!” Tom called encouragingly. ”Fight your hands and chest free, so that you can slip the noose down under your armpits. Keep cool and work fast, and we'll have you out. Don't let yourself get excited.”

In the meantime Tom was wholly unaware that the engulfing quicksand was reaching up gradually toward his hips.

Foreman Payson had ceased to try to attract Tom's attention. Whatever was to be done to save the chief engineer must be done swiftly. There was not another lariat, or any kind of rope at hand.

Behind was a cloud of alkali dust. Harry Hazelton was riding as fast as he could urge a spirited horse.

In another moment Hazelton had reined up at the edge of the group, dismounting and tossing the reins to one of the workmen.

”My man, you get on that horse and fly for a rope!” ordered Harry.

This last Hazelton shot back over his shoulder, for he was pus.h.i.+ng his way through the rapidly forming crowd to Payson's side. Another foreman had just come up.

”Mr. Bell,” shouted Harry, ”drive the men back who are not needed. We don't want to put a lot of weight on the soil here and cause a further cave-in.”

By this time Harry was at the edge of the platform. In a twinkling he was out on the sand.

Grip! Mr. Payson had a strong hold on the collar of the a.s.sistant engineer.

”Let go of me!” commanded Harry.

”You can't go out there, Mr. Hazelton. No more lives are to be wasted.”

”Let go of me, I tell you!”

”No, sir!” insisted Foreman Payson firmly.

”Let go of me, or I'll fight you!”

”You'll have to fight, then,” retorted Payson doggedly, maintaining his grip on the lad's coat collar. ”Comeback here!”

Aided by another man, the foreman dragged Hazelton back to the platform.

”Payson, I'll discharge you, if you interfere with me!” stormed Hazelton.

”Don't be a fool, sir. You can't help Mr. Reade. Be cool, sir. Keep your head and direct us like a man of sense.”