On the way up the trail Tom told the rescue party something about the late affair.

However, Reade referred to it only as a personal quarrel, refraining from making any mention of the treachery of Black and of the plots of which that treacherous engineer was a part.

“If you’ve many friends like that one, chief, you had better strap a gun on to your belt.”

“I don’t like revolver carrying,” Tom replied bluntly.  “It always makes a coward of a fellow.”

Two mornings later the telegraph wire, one end of which now rested in a tent in camp, brought word that President Newnham was at the construction camp, and would be along in the course of the day.

Tom, Harry and the draughtsmen were the only engineers in camp at the hour when the message arrived.

“Big doings coming our way!” announced Tom, after he had broken the news to the others.

“Is Mr. Newnham likely to make much of a shake-up?” asked Watson, one of the college-boy draughtsmen.

“I’ve never met him,” Tom answered, “and I don’t know.  We’re going along at grand old speed, and Mr. Newnham had better let things run just as they’re going now, if he wants to see the S.B. & L. open for traffic within charter time.”

“He may give all of us university boys the swift run,” laughed another of the draughtsmen.

“I don’t believe it,” Tom replied.  “The added help that you fellows have given us has enabled us to double our rush forward.  I’ve a notion that President Newnham is a man of great common sense.”

“How are the sick men this morning,” inquired Harry.  “Is either one of them fit to talk with the president?”

“Doc Gitney says he won’t allow any caller within a thousand feet of his patients,” Tom smiled.  “And Doc seems to be a man of his word.”

Both Mr. Thurston and Mr. Blaisdell were now weakly conscious, in a half-dazed sort of way.  Their cases were progressing favorably on the whole, though it would be weeks ere either would be fit to take charge of affairs.

The camp had been moved forward, so as to leave the sick men about a fifth of a mile away from the scenes of camp activity.  This insured quiet for them until they were able to endure noise once more.

“You’ll be amazingly busy until the president gets here, I take it,” remarked Bushrod, another college boy, without glancing up from his drawing table.

“Yes,” drawled Tom, with a smile.  “When you get time to breathe look out of the door and see what I’m doing.”

Tom walked over to his favorite seat, a reclining camp chair that he had placed under a broad shade tree.  Seating himself, the cub chief opened a novel that he had borrowed from one of the college boys.

“It looks lazy,” yawned Tom, “but what can I do?  I’ve hustled the corps, but I’m up with them to the last minute of work they’ve done.  There is nothing more I can do until they bring me more work.  I might ride out and see how the fellows are coming along in the field, but I was out there yesterday, and I know all they’re doing, and everyone of their problems.  Besides, if I rode afield, I’d miss Mr. Newnham.”