tracked down and shot at by Ferrers and a crowd,"
argued the leader. "Things are too warm for us here, just now.
In a case like this remember that a fellow lasts longer when
he does his shooting from ambush and at his own time. We won't
let this Dunlop crowd fool us out of our rights, but we'll have
to choose a better time---and fight from ambush at that."

It was soon plain that this view prevailed among the quartette.
As they turned to move away, the leader remarked:

"We'll leave you for a while, Dunlop, but don't image you've won.
Don't get any notion that you'll ever win. You'll hear from us
again."

"And you'll hear a plenty as long as your hearing remains good,"
snarled another of the men.

The four disturbers, turning their backs, started down the sloping
trail.

"Oh, but I'm glad we've seen the last of them!" shuddered one
of the women of the Dunlop party.

"Don't be deceived into thinking that the last has been seen of
that crew, madam," spoke Tom Reade gently. "Those fellows will
be heard from again, and at no very distant hour, either. Mr.
Dunlop---I believe that is your name, sir?"

The stout man bowed.

"Mr. Dunlop," Reade went on, earnestly, "I urge you to get these
women and the child away from here as soon as you can. Also any
of the men who may happen to have no taste for fighting. I don't
believe you'll see those four men in the open any more, but there'll
be more than one shot fired from ambush. You surely won't expose
these women and the child any further!"

"But, Father," broke in one of the women, tremulously, "if we leave,
it will take one of your two fighting men to run the car. Think how
weak that will leave your defense."

"You forget, my dear," spoke Mr. Dunlop, gently, "that our newly-found
young friends have just sent for other men."

Tom smiled grimly as he thought of Jim Ferrers's "crowd"---consisting
of poor, frighten little Alf with the cigarette-stained fingers.

"At any cost or risk, sir," Tom went on, after a moment, "you must
get the women and the child away from here. But---why, where is
the child?"

There was an instant of dismay. The little girl had vanished.

"Gladys!" spoke Dr. Dunlop's daughter in alarm.

From under one of the cars a muffled voice answered, "Here I am."
Then Gladys, sobbing and shaking, emerged into view.

"I was so frightened!" cried the child. "I just had to hide."

"The men have gone away, dear," explained her mother sooth