Even in the dark the young engineer could “feel” Nicolas’s shudder. Tom could not repress a smile that threatened to become a chuckle.
“I was varee sleepy,” continued Nicolas, “and so I lay down. I forgot to undress, or even to take off my shoes. I fall asleep, and I dream much. 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?”
“We know him,” nodded the policeman.
“Then,” Reade continued, “I wish you would search through Blixton for him. If you find him, be good enough to lock him up and notify me.”
“Is there a warrant out against him?” asked one of the policemen, cautiously.
“You don’t need one,” Tom replied. “I will make a charge of felony against Evarts, to the effect that he is concerned in the outrages against our wall. On a felony charge you don’t need a warrant. Then, too, try to find the big negro.”
“What’s his name?”
“I don’t know his name,” Tom answered. “I’ve dubbed him ‘Sambo Ebony.’ You have the description of him that I wrote out. Arrest Sambo, by all means, if you can find him, and I’ll make a felony charge against him, too. The negro is the one who has been blowing up the sea wall.”
“We’ll look for the pair all through the town, Mr. Reade,” promised the officers.
“Do! And, on behalf of the company, I’ll offer a two-hundred dollar reward for the arrest of each man!”
With that prospect to spur them on the policemen hastened away, followed by the young man with the bloodhound.
“Now, Nicolas,” pressed Reade, turning around at the faithful little brown man, “you tumble back into bed.”
“But you, Senor?”
“Don’t worry about me. I’ve probably done all I need to do to-night. I shall probably sit here on the porch and think until daylight. Then I’ll call Hazelton, and go to bed for a few hours’ sleep before I appear in court against the gamblers and the bootleggers. Go to bed, Nicolas, and sleep! That’s an order, remember!”