I see the big negro again, and I dream that I have more fight with heem.
Then, when you pull my foot, I wake up in one gr-rand sweat, for I theenk
the big black attack me once more. I am glad---so glad that it is not
true."
"Nicolas," cried Tom, "you have done fighting enough for one night. Yet
tell me, how did you happen to be at hand to-night in time to save me from
Mr. Sambo Ebony?"
"Because I see you start away to-night," replied Nicolas, "an' I see that
you go alone. I know that you mos' likely run into trouble, an' so I
follow you. Sure enough, Senor, you find trouble---and I heet heem with
my finger!"
"You surely did 'hit him with your finger,' Nicolas," laughed Tom, grasping
the little Mexican's hand and wringing it. "But now come outside. I had
sent for the police to find you, and now I must show them that you are
already found."
Together they went out on the porch. Tom explained the situation.
"Then you don't need us, after all?" asked one of the policemen.
"Not to find Nicolas," Tom Reade admitted. "But do you know Evarts?"
"Used to be your foreman?"
"Yes."
"We know him," nodded the policeman.
"Then," Reade continued, "I wish you would search through Blixton for
him.
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