y, be the same
individuals? Was this a trick of Andy Foger and his cronies?

Tom tried to pierce through the disguises. Clearly the persons were
men--not boys--and they wore the ragged clothes of tramps. Also, there
was an air of dogged determination about them.

"Well, are you going to shell out?" asked the leader, taking a step
nearer, "or will we have to take it?"

"Bless my very existence! You don't mean to say that you're going to
take the money--I mean how do you know we have any money?" and Mr.
Damon hastily corrected himself. "What right have you to stop us in
this way? Don't you know that every minute counts? We are in a hurry."

"I know it," spoke the leading masked figure with a laugh. "I know you
have considerable money in that shebang, and I know what you hope to do
with it, prevent the run on the Shopton National Bank. But we need that
money as much as some other people and, what's more, we're going to
have it! Come on, shell out!"

"Oh, why didn't we bring a gun!" lamented Mr. Damon in a low voice to
Tom. "Isn't there anything we can do? Can't you give them an electric
shock, Tom?"

"I'm afraid not. If it wasn't for that hay wagon we could turn on the
current and make a run for it. But we'd only go into the ditch if we
tried to pass now."

The load of hay was down the road, but as Tom looked he noticed a
curious thing. It seemed to be nearer than it was when the attack of
the masked men came. The wagon actually seemed to have backed up. Once
more the thought came to the lad that possibly the load of fodder might
be one of the factors on which the thieves counted. They might have
used it to make the auto halt, and the man, or men, on it were probably
in collusion with the footpads. There was no doubt about it, the load
of hay was coming nearer, backing up instead of moving away. Tom
couldn't understand it. He gave a swift glance at the robbers. They had
not appeared to notice this, or, if they had, they gave no sign.

"Then we can't do anything," murmured Mr. Damon.

"I don't see that we can," replied the young inventor in a low voice.

"And the money we worked so hard to get won't do the bank any good,"
and Mr. Damon sighed.

"It's tough luck," agreed Tom.

"Come now, fork over that cash!" called the leader, advancing still
closer. "None of that talk between you there. If you think you can work
some trick on us you're mistaken. We're desperate men, and we're well
armed. The first show of r