te 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.

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