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.
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