"I am
afraid that you'll only start more dissatisfaction and more treachery among
them."
"This having liquor in camp is going to be stopped, sir," Tom insisted.
"A keg of liquor will demoralize a whole campful of men like these. They
are an excitable lot, and they go crazy when there's any liquor around. If
we don't put a stop to it, then there'll be fights, and then a few murders
are most likely to follow. I've had plenty of experience with men such as
we have here, and the stopping of liquor in camp means our only safety, and
our only chance to have our work well done. Come along; let the
gang-master follow us."
Tom went directly up to a group of workmen who had been looking curiously
on. Most of them were Italians, but there were a few negroes present.
"Now; men, gather around me," Tom requested. "I want to talk to you.
Come close."
As they did so Reade rested a hand on the shoulder of a negro.
"My friend," said Tom, "you've been drinking to-night."
"No, sah, boss! 'Deed I hasn't," replied the negro, earnestly.
"Man, don't you think I have a nose?" Tom demanded, dryly. "Every time you
open your mouth I smell the fumes of the stuff. There are other men in
this group, too, who have been drinking.
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