“Now, roll over,” ordered Reade grimly. “I’m curious to see what you have in your pocket. Ah! So---this is it! You’re another Peter Bad, are you?” Tom held in one hand a silver-plated revolver with ivory handle that he had snatched out of Black’s pocket. “I wonder why it is,” mocked Tom, grinning, “that nine out of every ten dude tenderfeet from the east come west with one of these things.” Black charged the cub, intent on recapturing his pistol, but Reade shot out a foot, tripping him. Then Tom ran nimbly over to the cook tent. Here he halted, breaking the weapon at the breech and allowing the cartridges to drop into his hand. He transferred them to his pocket, then wheeled and picked up Jake’s kitchen hatchet. With a few swift strokes from the head of the hatchet Tom put that firearm on the retired list for good. “Give me my pistol, boy!” choked Black, running up. “Certainly,” rejoined Reade, wheeling and politely offering the ruined firearm. “I don’t want it. I’ve no use for such things” Black took his weapon, gasped, then, seizing it by the barrel, leaped at Tom, intent on battering his head. “Here, what’s the trouble?” cried Mr. Thurston, appearing around the corner of the cook house and promptly seizing Black by the collar of his flannel shirt. “Nothing much, sir,” laughed Tom. “Mr. Black has just been showing me how bad men behave out in this part of the country.” “This boy is a troublesome cub, Mr. Thurston,” declared Black hotly. “Do you see what he has done to my revolvers” “How did Reade come to have it?” inquired Mr. Thurston. “He snatched it away from me.” “Reade, is this true?” demanded the chief engineer, turning to the youth. “Yes, sir; as far as the story goes.” “Tell me the whole truth of this affair,” ordered Mr. Thurston sternly. Tom started to do so, modestly, but Black broke in angrily at points in the narrative. “The principal thing that I have against Mr. Black,” Tom said, “is that he spoiled all my drawing work of this morning.” “Yes; but how did I come to do it?” insisted the newcomer. “You pushed me against your drawing table.” Tom started with astonishment. “My friend,” he remarked, “Baron Munchausen never had anything on you!” “Careful, Reade! Don’t pass the lie,” ordered the chief engineer sternly. “I shall look fully into this matter, but at present I’m inclined to believe that you’re more at fault than is Black. Return to the tent and start your drawing over again.” There was a smile again on Tom’s face as he turned back to make his spoiled work good. Mr. Thurston went back to his inspection of the ponies. Later, the chief engineer was able to pick up some details of the trouble from Jake Wren, who had seen Black reach for his revolver. “Understand two things, Mr. Black,” said the chief briskly. “In the first place, it is not expected that the engineers of this corps will find any real cause for fighting. Second, I will tolerate no pistol nonsense here.”