The Young Engineers on the Gulf | Page 9

end of the wall. In that case he might more speedily
have detected the wriggling, snake-like movement of the big negro
moving toward him.
With great caution the huge prowler came onward, raising his head a
few inches every now and then and listening. The black man's nostrils
moved feverishly. He was using them, as a dog would have done, to
scent any signs of alarm on the part of the human quarry that he was
after.

At last Harry Hazelton turned sharply, for his own ears were attuned to
the stillnesses of the western forests and his hearing was unusually
acute. He had just heard a sound on the wall, not far away. Instantly the
young engineer was on the alert.
Then his eyes, piercing the darkness, made out the crawling, dark form,
which did not appear to be more than fifty feet away from him.
For a second or two Harry stared. But he knew there could be no snake
as broad as this crawling figure appeared to be.
"Who's there?" Hazelton called quickly.
The writhing mass became still, flattening itself against the bed of rock.
Hazelton was not to be deceived, however.
"Who's there?" Harry repeated. "You had better talk up, my man!"
Still no sound. Harry started forward to investigate. His foot touched
against a good sized fragment of rock left there by one of the masons.
Without delay Harry reached down, picking up the rock, which was
rather more than half as large as his head.
Holding this in his right hand Harry advanced with still more
confidence, for he felt himself to be armed. Hazelton had been a clever
pitcher in his high school days and knew that he could make this
fragment of rock land pretty close to where he wanted it to go.
"Who are you?" demanded Hazelton, once more, as he stepped
cautiously forward. "No use in your keeping silent, my man. I see you
and know that you're there. Moreover, I'm going to drag the truth out of
you as to what you're doing out here on the wall at this hour of the
night---and to-night of all nights."
Still no answer; Harry went steadily forward, until he was within a
dozen feet of the head of the flattened brute in human guise. Hazelton
could now see every line of his adversary plainly, though he could not

make out the fellow's face.
"You'd better get up and talk," warned Harry, poising the rock fragment
for a throw. "If you don't you'll cast all the more suspicion upon
yourself. For the last time, my man, who are you and what are you
doing here?"
The huge black figure might have been a log for all the answer that
came forth.
"All right, then; it's your own fault," Harry Hazelton continued calmly.
"As you won't speak I'm going to crack the nut for myself. Your head
will be the nut, and this rock I have in my hand shall be the hammer.
I'm going to slam this rock on your head with all the force I've got, and
I'm a good, straight thrower."
Yet, though Hazelton spoke with such confidence, he was far from
meaning all he said. In the first place, he had no legal right, under the
circumstances, to go as close to murder as it might be for him to throw
the rock at the rascal's head. Moreover, Harry would hardly have
exercised such a legal right, had he possessed it, without the strongest
provocation.
From the black prowler came a sudden, fierce snort. It sounded
altogether like defiance.
"Ho---ho! You're finding your voice, are you, my man?" Hazelton
jeered. "Then talk up in time to save yourself!"
Instead the huge black man began to writhe forward.
"Stop that!" ordered Harry dangerously. He did not retreat from the
writhing human thing, but he took better aim, noting that the black man
was hatless and that his head offered a fair mark. "You're going to get
hurt in just about a second more," he added.
Uttering another snort the bulky black sprang to his feet with surprising
agility in one of his great size.

Harry now let his right hand fall back quickly. He was poising for the
throw in earnest, for there could no longer be any doubt that the
stranger was planning a deadly assault.
"Take it, then, since you want it!" snapped out Harry Hazelton. The
fragment of rock left his hand, propelled with force and directed with
accurate aim at the negro's face.
But the crafty black dodged just in time, at the same instant throwing
up his hands.
Harry gasped as he saw his unknown assailant deftly catch the rock
fragment as though it had been a base ball.
"Ha, ha! Ho, ho!" jeered the black, in a