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Page 65
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.
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.
Ashby, a wild light in his eyes, heavily armed, and riding madly, kept
up a continuous fire in his effort to destroy the young chief engineer.
Honk! Honk! honk! came the warning from the automobile horn. The car
dashed at full speed toward the vengeful rider, as though about to run
him down.
George Ashby, however, was not easily intimidated. One swift glance had
assured him that the automobile bore no armed men. He therefore merely
swung his horse out of the path of the on-coming car and continued to
aim at Reade, though he now took more time between shots. On Hazelton
he did not waste a shot.
Helplessly and vainly the automobile whizzed by pursuer and pursued.
"Ashby, stop this madness!" cried Mr. Ellsworth hoarsely.
The pursuing rider never faltered. Now the party of Arizona horsemen
were riding nearer. Two or three of the leaders drew revolvers, opening
fire on the mad hotel man, though the range was as yet too great for
effective work.
In another thirty seconds George Ashby would doubtless have dropped to
the dust of the dessert, riddled with lead. Suddenly, however, he gave
his horse's head a sharp turn to the right. In an instant he was riding
back, shooting no more, and Tom Reade had passed safely out of range.
With wild whoops the Paloma horsemen dashed on. Their mounts were not
spent as was that of the hotel man.
"Don't shoot the fellow, if you can help it!" Tom Reade had called, as
the horsemen swept by him. "Rope Ashby if you can."
Suddenly the hotel man's mount was seen to stagger slightly. It was
sufficient to pitch Ashby, who was not on his guard.
With wilder whoops the Arizona men spurred their ponies on. There was a
whirring of lariats and no less than three nooses had fallen over the
hotel man's head.
There came a brief interval in which the men, swooping down on the
captive, concealed him from the view of others.
Out of this crush soon came order. Then it was seen that Ashby had been
roped securely and was being led back to the railroad camp.
"We've got the scoundrel, with four ropes hitched to him," called one of
the captors.
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