Then Nicolas came along and
put the negro out of the fight, and---"
"Nicolas?" demanded Foreman Corbett incredulously.
"Yes. Nicolas proved himself to be the most fiery little bunch of fighting
material that I have ever seen," laughed Reade, as they walked rapidly
along.
"How could that Mexican wallop a giant?"
"I'll ask Nicolas to show you, to-morrow," Tom laughed mischievously.
"But, Corbett, I believe that four bombs are even now attached to some
part of the retaining wall, ready to be set off.
"Great Scott!"
"They won't be set off, though," continued Reade. "I found the firing
magneto, and had a chance to cut the wires."
The foreman wanted to ask more questions, while the half dozen workmen
trudged along close at their heels, eager to hear every word. Tom,
however, suggested that they save their breath in the interest of speed,
until they had Mr. Sambo Ebony in safe custody.
"Here we come, Nicolas!" Tom called, as the party neared the spot where
captor and captive had been left.
There was no response.
"Nicolas!" Tom called again, with a start.
Still no answer.
"I don't like the look of that," Reade uttered. "Let's get there on the
sprint!"
Tom himself caught at one of the lanterns, leading the way.
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