Start---now!"
"Good night!" said President Bascomb in a choking voice.
"Oh, cut out the civilities!" grunted Evarts turning on his heel.
Mr. Bascomb then silently left the spot. His footfalls made so little
noise that their sound was soon lost to Dick and Tom.
Evarts appeared in no hurry to leave. On the contrary he drew out a pipe,
filled it and lighted it. Then he threw himself down on the ground,
puffing slowly.
"From the fact that he sent Mr. Bascomb away, and is himself remaining,"
thought Tom Reade, "it is rather plain that this scoundrel, Evarts, is
awaiting some one else."
The same thought had occurred to Dick Prescott, though, as they lay within
thirty feet of where Evarts reclined on the ground, the chums did not deem
it wise to exchange even whispers.
After another half-hour Dick pressed Tom's arm. Other footsteps were now
near. Then Mr. Sambo Ebony slouched on to the scene.
"Hullo, Tar!" was the ex-foreman's careless greeting.
"Now, doan' get too prescrumptious wid me," warned the black man, with an
evil grin that displayed his big, white teeth. "Yo' an' me hab done been
good frien's, an' pulled togedder. But Ah want yo' to undahstan', Mr.
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