“I’ll ‘get’ Dolph Gage yet, if I ever have a fair chance without running my neck into the noose of the law,” added Ferrers, with silent fury in his tone.

“Is there a story behind it all, eh” queried Tom mildly.

“Yes, Mr. Reade.  Too long a story to tell in a minute.”

“I didn’t mean to pry into your affairs, Ferrers,” Tom made haste to say.

“Well, for one thing, Dolph Gage shot the only brother I ever had—–­and got cleared of the charge in the court!” muttered Ferrers.

“Was your brother killed?” Tom inquired.

“Didn’t I state that Dolph Gage shot him?” demanded Jim in a semi-injured tone.  “Men don’t often waste ammunition out in this county, even if I did send in three wild shots just now.  But that was because I was excited, and couldn’t see straight.  I’ll try to do better next time.”

Mr. Dunlop was now engaged in making his daughter, her child and the other woman comfortable in one of the touring cars.

Several of the men in the party, also, had decided that they did not care to remain if they were to be exposed to shooting at all hours of the day.

In the end Mr. Dunlop had but three of the men in his party left with him.

The younger of the two armed men was sent to drive the car containing the women.  One of the guests of the Dunlop party drove a second car.  In this order they started for Dugout City, thirty miles away.  As the roads hardly deserved the name the motor cars would not be likely to reach Dugout before dark.

“Look out for ambushes,” exclaimed Mr. Dunlop, to the armed driver of the women’s car.

“Yes, sir; but there isn’t much danger of our being fired on.  Gage’s gang will be only too glad to see the women folks leaving here.  We won’t be troubled.”

Mr. Dunlop stood anxiously gazing after the two touring cars as long as they could be seen.  Then he stepped briskly back, holding out his hand to Tom Reade.

“Permit me, now, to thank you for your timely aid,” said the stout man.  “You know my name.  Will you kindly introduce your friends?”

This Tom did at once, after which Mr. Dunlop presented his three companions.  One was his nephew, Dave Hill, the second, George Parkinson, Mr. Dunlop’s secretary, and the third a man named John Ransome, an investor in Mr. Dunlop’s mining enterprise.  The elder of the armed men who remained behind was Joe Timmins, both guide and chauffeur.  The young man who had gone with one of the cars was Timmins’s son.

“You have a mining claim hereabouts, Mr. Dunlop?” Tom inquired.

“Yes; but not exactly at this point,” added the older man, with a smile as he noted Reade staring about him with a quizzical smile.  “The claim stands over there on that slope”—–­ pointing to the westward.

“Has it been prospected, sir?” asked Hazelton.

“Yes:  it’s a valuable property, all right.  I brought my party out here to show it to them.  The friends who have returned to Dugout, and Mr. Ransome here, have the money ready to put up the needed capital as soon as they are satisfied.”