Tom was on the point of giving a hint of what he had heard in the gully during the meeting between Black and Bad Pete. Then, on second thought, the cub engineer decided to hold that news for the ear of Mr. Thurston alone. “What were you going to say?” pressed Rutter. “Probably Hazelton has told you,” Tom continued, “that you’re in charge here until Mr. Thurston arrives.” “Yes; and I’m mighty glad that the chief will be here before daylight tomorrow,” returned Jack. “I may be a fair sort of engineer, but I’m not cut out for a chief engineer.” Later, one of the rodmen was sent to guide Harry to the nearest small town, twenty-eight miles away, for ice. If they succeeded in obtaining it they might be back by dark of the following day. Supper in camp was a gloomy meal. No one felt light-hearted. “Mr. Rutter,” asked Tom, approaching the temporary chief, soon after the evening meal, “what do you want Hazelton and myself to do this evening?” “Don’t ask me,” returned Jack, with a shrug of his shoulders. “What have you been doing? Drawing?” “Yes.” “Why don’t you go on with it?” “We’re at a point where we need orders, for we’ve had to lay down one part of the work while waiting for further instructions.” “I can’t help you any, then,” replied Rutter. “Sorry, but before I could give any orders I’d need a few myself.” At eleven o’clock that night Dr. Gitney arrived, with saddle-bags full of medicines and other necessaries. He saw Blaisdell, and pronounced the assistant engineer a very sick man. Shortly after midnight Mr. Thurston rode into camp. He tottered from saddle and reeled until Tom, on the lookout for him, ran forward and supported the chief engineer to his tent. Then Dr. Gitney was sent for and came. “Your chief has mountain fever, too,” said the medical attendant to Tom, after stepping outside the tent. “How long will it take them to get well?” asked Wade anxiously. “Weeks! Hard to say,” replied the physician vaguely. “Weeks!” groaned Tom Reade. “And the camp now in charge of Jack Rutter, who’s a fine workman but no leader! Doc Gitney doesn’t know it, but he has sentenced the S.B. & L. railroad to death!” It was a trying situation. The cub engineer felt it keenly, for he had set his heart on seeing the S.B. & L. win out over its rival. Then, too, all in a flash, the memory of ’Gene Black’s treachery to his employers came back to the mind of Tom Reade. CHAPTER XII FROM CUB TO ACTING CHIEF Tom didn’t sleep that night. He sat by, silently, in the big tent, nursing the patient as Dr. Gitney directed. In the morning, at five, Matt Rice came. Tom gladly surrendered the post to him and took a scant hour of deep slumber on the bare ground outside. “Wake up, Reade,” ordered Rutter, at last shaking the cub and hauling him to his feet. “This is no place to sleep. Go to your tent and stretch out full length on your cot.” “On my cot?” demanded Tom, rubbing his eyes fiercely. “You can’t spare me from the day’s work?”