"Ah doan' rightly know, boss," replied one of the negroes cautiously.
"But you suspect it, don't you?" Tom pressed.
"Yes; Ah done 'spec so, boss," grinned the negro.
"And I do, too," rejoined Tom. "Come along. We may need a little help."
With this reinforcement---the negroes were wanted for work rather than for
fighting---Tom now stepped off briskly through the camp.
Nor did he have to guess in which way to go through the darkened streets
of this little village of toilers. Shouts of laughter and the click of
ivory dice and celluloid chips signaled the direction.
The largest shack in the village was closed tightly as to door and window,
though light came out through the chinks. Tom stepped over there boldly,
not turning to see whether his following were close behind him.
Stepping up to the closed door the young chief engineer placed his shoulder
against it. He gave a sturdy push, and the barrier flew open.
There were about fifty of his men crowded into one large room. A half
dozen gambling games were in full blast. At two tables stood bootleggers,
each with a bottle of liquor and glasses.
Tom stalked boldly in, still without turning to look at his own following.
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