into cover somewhere.
Maybe he headed for Dugout City and hasn't stopped running yet."

Then a turn of the path under the trees brought them in sight of
their camp.

Rather, where the camp had been. Jim Ferrers rubbed his eyes for
an instant, for the tents had been spirited away as though by magic.
Nor were the cots to be seen. Blankets lay strewn about on the
ground. A quarter the camp's food supplies was still left, and
that was all.

"Is it magic, Jim?" gasped puzzled Tom Reade.

"No, sir; just plain stealing," Ferrers responded grimly.

"Then who-----"

"Dolph Gage's crew, I'll be bound, sir. They don't want you two
hanging around in this country, and they want me a heap sight
less. But maybe we'll show 'em! The trail can't be hard to find.
We'll have to start at once."

"After we've seen and spoken to Mr. Dunlop," Tom amended. "We
can't run off without explanation to the guests that we have invited
to share the camp that we thought had."

Barely a hundred yards away four men lay on their stomachs, heads
concealed behind a low fringe of brush under which the muzzles
of their rifles peeped.

"Remember," whispered Dolph Gage faintly, "all of you fire your first
shot into Jim Ferrers. After that we'll take charge of the
youngsters! Get a close bead on Jim. Ready!"

CHAPTER IV

SOLD OUT FOR A TOY BALE!

Jim Ferrers had stated a plain truth when he remarked that Nevada
men did not often waste ammunition.

With four rifles aimed at him, at that short, point-blank range,
it would seem that Jim's last moment had come.

Yet at that instant the sound of an approaching motor ear was heard.

Then the car, moving at twelve miles an hour mounted the crest at a
point less than seventy yards from where the four ambushed men lay.

Joe Timmins caught sight of them.

"Take the wheel!" muttered Timmins, forcing Parkinson's nearer
hand to the wheel.

In an instant Joe was upon his feet, drawing his revolver. He
fired at the men in ambush, but a lurch of the car on the rough
ground destroyed his aim.

"Dolph Gage and his rascals at the ridge," bellowed Joe, in a
fog-horn voice, pointing.

Jim Ferrers dropped to the ground, hugging it flat. Harry followed
suit. Tom Reade hesitated an instant, then away he flew at a
dead run.

Close to a tree Tom stopped, thrusting right hand in among the
bushes. Up and down his hand moved.

"Shoot and duck!" snarled Dolph, in a passion because of their