Harry Hazelton was riding as fast as
he could urge a spirited horse.
In another moment Hazelton had reined up at the edge of the group,
dismounting and tossing the reins to one of the workmen.
"My man, you get on that horse and fly for a rope!" ordered Harry.
This last Hazelton shot back over his shoulder, for he was pushing his
way through the rapidly forming crowd to Payson's side. Another foreman
had just come up.
"Mr. Bell," shouted Harry, "drive the men back who are not needed. We
don't want to put a lot of weight on the soil here and cause a further
cave-in."
By this time Harry was at the edge of the platform. In a twinkling he
was out on the sand.
Grip! Mr. Payson had a strong hold on the collar of the assistant
engineer.
"Let go of me!" commanded Harry.
"You can't go out there, Mr. Hazelton. No more lives are to be wasted."
"Let go of me, I tell you!"
"No, sir!" insisted Foreman Payson firmly.
"Let go of me, or I'll fight you!"
"You'll have to fight, then," retorted Payson doggedly, maintaining his
grip on the lad's coat collar.
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