He may open on you again within two minutes." "I don't believe he will," replied Tom, with his quiet smile.
"At the same time, I'll be prepared for him." Bending to the ground, and rummaging about a bit, Reade selected three stones that would throw well.

These he dropped into one of his pockets.
"Now, let the bad man trot himself on, if he has to," added the cub engineer, waving a signal to the rodman, who had just halted at the next stake.
"Well, of all the cool ones!" grunted Rutter, under his breath.
"But, then, Reade's a tenderfoot.

He doesn't understand just how dangerous a fellow like Pete can be." The chainman started away to measure the distance.

From up the hillside came sounds of smothered but very bad language.
"There's our friend Peter again," Tom chuckled to Rutter.
"Yes, and the ruffian may open on you again at any moment," warned Jack, keeping an anxious glance turned in the direction whence came the disturbing voice of Bad Pete.
"Oh, I don't think he will," drawled Tom, making a hand signal to the leading chainman to step a little more to the left.

"I hope not, anyway, for the noise of revolver shots takes my thoughts away from my work." Jack Rutter said no more after that, though through the rest of the afternoon he kept an alert lookout for signs of Pete.