Most of the workmen present were now in
frantic haste to get out before any shooting began. The two bootleggers
also sought to make their escape.
"Get back there! You fellows can't get out!" Harry shouted, himself
seizing and hurling the bootleggers back into the room. They rose, glaring
sullenly at Hazelton. But they didn't know how many more men he might have
behind him out there in the dark.
Tom Reade now had the six gamblers and the two bootleggers in the room
with him.
"You're a nice crew, aren't you?" he jeered, gazing at them scornfully.
"We're making our living," retorted the leader of the gamblers, with what
he meant to be a fine tone of scorn.
"Making your living off of human beings! You're some of the parasites
that infest honest workingmen. I've drummed you out of this camp before,
and you have the cheek to come back. Now, I'll try to teach you another
lesson. Harry, send in our workmen, will you?"
Hazelton stepped aside, to let in the half dozen honest negroes they had
brought along with them. These men entered, then stood looking at their
young chief.
"Get hold of those cards, chips and dice!" ordered Tom.
"Here, what are you trying to do?" demanded the leader of the gamblers.
Pages:
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132