Tom was at the man's side in an instant.

He proved to be an Italian.
"My man, you appear to be intoxicated," Tom remarked, quietly, as he gripped the Italian by the arm.
"No spikka da English," hiccoughed the laborer.

As he spoke he tried to free himself from the engineer's grasp.

He staggered, and would have fallen, had not Tom prevented the fall.
"Where's this man's gang-master ?" Tom demanded, looking about him sharply, while he still held the drunken man.
None of the Italians addressed appeared to know.

For the most part they took refuge in the fact or the pretense that they didn't understand English.
"Get an Italian gang-master, Harry," Tom murmured softly.
Hazelton bolted away, but was soon back, followed by a dark-skinned man who came with apparent reluctance.
"You're a gang-master ?" Tom demanded, looking sharply at the man.