"It's a revolver the fellow's shooting at Mr. Reade!" gasped
Superintendent Hawkins, leaping into the car beside the general manager.
"Turn your speed on, man--make a lightning lash across the Man-killer!"
Away shot the automobile, not wholly to the liking of two eastern men
who sat in the directors' car.
Tom Reade had realized his danger. Having nothing with which to fight,
Reade had sprung his horse eastward and was racing for life.
The unknown had emptied his weapon, but that did not deter him, for,
continuing his wild pursuit, the stranger could be seen to draw another
automatic revolver.
The bullets striking all about Tom's pony ploughed up the sand.
Within a minute the men in the speeding automobile were close enough to
hear the sputtering crackle of the pistol shots.
"There goes Hazelton right into the face of death!" gasped Mr.
Ellsworth, who remained in a standing position. "Foolish of the boy,
but magnificent!"
Harry had turned some time before, but now those in the automobile saw
that Hazelton was riding squarely to Tom's side, despite the constant
fusillade of bullets.
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