He had seen no one but Tom Reade, but Tom was the one person in the world
whom the ex-foreman wanted most to 'see' at a disadvantage.
"Now, I have you!" Evarts croaked hoarsely, rushing in, flourishing his
weapon, then letting the muzzle drop to the position of aim.
Dick Prescott, unseen, stirred almost under the fellow's feet.
Flop! Bump! Caught by the legs, by that famous football player, Dick
Prescott, Evarts simply had to go down on his back.
In the same instant Reade leaped, then bent over the prostrate foe.
Evarts was too much dazed to resist much. Tom snatched the revolver out
of his hand.
Sambo, beholding this much, came to a dismayed stop for an instant.
"Dick, it's your trade to know how to handle this tool better than I can,"
Tom cried, passing the captured revolver to Prescott, who swiftly received
it as he rose. "I'm afraid," continued the young engineer, "that it's
going to be necessary to kill the negro."
"Wow! Woof!" uttered Sambo Ebony. It didn't take that villain an instant
to decide on flight. Bending low, the black man ran off with frantic
speed.
Dick took a step forward---only one, for Evarts furiously gripped at one
of the young army officer's ankles, bringing him down to his knees.
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