electric bell as a warning.

"I say!" called Mr. Damon to the unseen driver, "can't you turn out and
let us pass?"

"Ha! Hum! Wa'al I guess not!" came the answer, in unmistakable farmer's
accents. "You automobile fellers is too gol-hanged smart, racin' along
th' roads. I've got just as good a right here as you fellers have, by
heck!" The driver did not show himself.

"We know that," responded Tom, as quickly as he could, for he did not
want to anger the man. "But our machine is so heavy that if we turn
into the ditch I'm afraid we'll be mired."

"Huh! So'll I," was the retort from the unseen driver.. "Think I want
t' spile my load of hay?"

"But you have wide tires on, and you wouldn't sink in far," answered
the young inventor. "Besides, it's very necessary that we get past. A
great deal depends on our speed."

"So it does on mine," was the reply. "Ef I git t' market late I'll have
t' stay all night, an' spend money on a hotel bill."

"I'll pay it! I'll pay your bill if you'll only pull out!" cried Mr.
Damon. "I'll give you a hundred dollars!"

He suddenly ceased speaking. From the bushes along the road sprang
several ragged, masked figures. Each one, aiming his weapon at Tom,
said in a low voice, that could not have been heard by the driver of
the hay wagon:

"Slow up your machine, young feller! We want to speak with you, and
don't you make a loud noise, or it won't be healthy for you!"

"Why of all the-!" began Mr. Damon, but another of the footpads
leveling his weapon at the eccentric man growled:

"Dry up, if you don't want to get shot!"

Mr. Damon subsided. Discretion was very plainly the better part of
valor. Tom had shut off the current. The load of hay continued on
ahead. Tom thought perhaps the driver of it might have been in
collusion with the thieves, to cause the auto to slow up.

"What do you want with us?" asked the young inventor, trying to speak
calmly, but finding it a hard task, with a revolver pointed at him.

"You know what we want," exclaimed the leader, in a low voice. "We
want that cash you got from the bank, and we're going to have it! Come,
now, shell out!" and he advanced toward the automobile.

CHAPTER XX

ON TIME

Close around the electric auto crowded the members of the hold-up gang.
Their eyes seemed to glare through the holes in their black masks.
Instantly Tom thought of the other occasion when he was halted by
masked figures. Could these, by any possibilit