A dozen masked men pressed into the room. Tom and Harry put their fists into instant action, but it availed them nothing.

In a twinkling they were borne to the floor. At lightning speed both were rolled over and bound.

From the tents of the laborers, beyond hoa.r.s.e voices sounded as the men were awakened by the shots.

"Get back there, you idiots!" commanded a voice outside. "If you don't, you'll think that a Gatling gun factory has blown up about your ears."

Reports rang out sharply as a dozen revolver shots were fired into the air.

Now, dazed with the suddenness of the attack, Reade and Hazelton were dragged into the open.

Their two night watchmen, who had gone down bravely, now lay wounded on the ground, their weapons s.n.a.t.c.hed from them.

"Hoist 'em along, boys," ordered a gruff voice.

Tom and Harry were carried on the shoulders of men, and moved along at a swift pace. Only half a dozen of the raiders needed to remain somewhat in the rear, firing an occasional shot to prevent the unarmed laborers from swarming to the attack.

"Hoist 'em up! Tie 'em on! Get under way quick! There'll be a big noise raised after us soon," declared the same directing voice.

Tom and Harry were fairly thrown upon the backs of horses, and there lashed fast.

"Mount and get away," ordered the commander of this strangest of night raids.

Two men, each leading a pony to which a captive was lashed, rode off in one direction. Groups of two or three rode away in other directions, the blackness of the night swallowing them up.

It was going to be a difficult task for pursuers to know which direction to take in order to come up with Reade and Hazelton in time to save them from the fate that lay just ahead of them!

For audacity and dash the raid could not have been better planned.

From camp not a shot was fired, for the watchmen had had the only weapons and these had been seized by the invaders.

"Our foremen might telegraph to camp," thought Tom swiftly, as he felt himself being carried away. "But I'll wager that these smart scoundrels didn't forget to cut the wire before springing the raid."

For the first two or three minutes Harry's, slower moving mind hardly grasped more than the fact that their enemies appeared to have won a complete triumph.

"There isn't much doubt as to what they'll do with us," thought Hazelton, with a slight shudder. "These rascals will move too fast for pursuit to overtake them early. What they in intend to do with us can be done in a very few minutes."

Neither young engineer really expected to live to see daylight. From the first, after having incurred the anger of a certain lawless element in Paloma, the young engineers had understood fully that threats of lynching them had not been idly made.

"There'll be a stir, though," Tom Reade muttered to himself. "The A. G.

& N. M. officials won't let this crime go by without a determined effort to bring the offenders to justice. Detectives will search this community in squads, and everyone of these masked gentlemen is likely to get his deserts."

Within the next half hour the galloping horses had covered fully five miles. Now the leader of the crowd led the way down into a deep gully in the sand.

"Hold up, men," ordered the leader, and the cavalcade came to a stop, horses panting.

"Tumble the cattle off into the dirt," was the next order, and it was obeyed, Tom and Harry rolling in the bitter alkali dust.

"Now, gentlemen, I believe I will take command," spoke one of the party of hors.e.m.e.n, in his most suave voice, as he removed his mask. The speaker, as Reade knew at once, was Jim Duff, the gambler.

"That's all right, Jim," nodded the former leader.

"Jake, ride back a few hundred yards and keep a sharp lookout,"

suggested Duff blandly. "The pursuers may come in automobiles. We'll cut the ceremonies here short and leave nothing but lifeless bodies for the rescue parties to find."

Stakes were driven and the horses picketed.

"Bring along our guests," suggested Jim Duff, with a touch of humor that the occasion rendered grisly.

Thereupon Tom and Harry were once more jerked to their feet.

"Ye can walk, I reckon, and don't have be toted," observed one of the scoundrels.

"We're wholly at your service, sir," rejoined Tom mockingly.

"And equally at your pleasure," Harry suggested dryly.

Two hundred yards further on the halted close to a pair of stunted trees of about the same size.

"Gentlemen, you may as well remove your masks on this hot evening,"

suggested Jim Duff. The face coverings came off. Reade and Hazelton surveyed their captors as the chance offered, being careful not to betray too great curiosity.

"I see one gentleman here whom I had expected to find," remarked Tom quietly.

"Me?" hinted Duff.

"Well, yes; you, for one, but I refer to that excellent host, Mr. Ashby, of the Mansion House."

With a start George Ashby turned on Reade, coming closer and grinning ferociously into the face of the young chief engineer. Tom, however, managed to muster a smile as he went on:

"How do you do, Mr. Ashby? Your performance of this afternoon mystified me a good deal. I had never expected to find myself on a shooting acquaintance with you."

Three or four of the rascals chuckled at this way of putting it, but Proprietor Ashby snarled like a wild animal.

"As for you, Mr. Duff," Reade resumed, "I confess that I have never been able to understand you."

"You will to-night," smiled Duff, with bland ferocity. "I can promise you, as a gambler, that I am going to give you a square deal."

"Fine!" glowed Tom. "I am delighted to hear that you have reformed, then."

This' time there was a general laugh. Jim Duff flushed angrily.

"Reade, what you never understood about me is that I belong to the ranks of the square gamblers."

"I didn't believe there were any such gamblers," Tom replied in a voice of surprise. "It is still hard for me to believe. How can any man be square and honorable when he won't work, but fattens on the earnings of others? Has that idea any connection with honor?"

"Stop that line of talk, you young hound!" ordered Duff, striding up to this bold young enemy. All the slight veneer of polish that Duff usually affected had vanished now. His eyes blazed with rage as he doubled his fist and struck Reade full in the face, knocking him down. One of the bystanders jerked Tom to his feet.