Both pistols were now emptied, but the pursuer, letting his reins fall
on the neck of his madly galloping pony, was inserting fresh cartridges
in the magazine chambers of his pistols.
CHAPTER XIX
THE SECRET OF ASHBY'S CUNNING
At a considerable distance behind the automobile came another rescue
party. This was made up of about two score of Arizona horsemen. Many of
these men were armed. At the saddle bows of some of the hung raw-hide
lariats that the owners unwound as they sped forward.
Tom Reade, with the pursuer slowly, but steadily gaining upon him, had
discovered the identity of the man who seemed bent on his destruction.
As Hazelton drew nearer Tom waved his left hand frantically at his chum.
"Turn about, Harry! Ride back like the wind!" shouted Tom. "It's
Ashby, and he's shooting to kill. About face--you young idiot!"
Harry took no notice of the warning, reining in only slightly, then
wheeling and riding in a line with Reade, though about forty feet to one
side of him.
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