f fear.

"Hazelton?"

"One tree is as good as another," Harry answered in a strangely quiet
voice.

In the midst of an impressive silence, and with motions that seemed
oddly unreal to the tended victims, Duff placed the two young engineers.
A lariat was thrown over a low limb of each of the trees. Then, with
slightly trembling hands the gambler adjusted a over the neck of each
bound boy.

CHAPTER XXII. TOM AND HARRY VANISH

"How d'ye like that, Rafe?" queried Jeff Moore, as Jim Duff stepped back
and viewed the young engineers with a diabolical smile before giving the
fatal signal.

"I don't like it," muttered Bodson.

"No more do I."

"Shall we stop it?"

"Yes. I'm sick of Jim Duff. This night has turned me against the
smooth-tongued coward."

"Get busy, then, Rafe!"

"Shall we stand the crowd off and set the boys free?"

"Pump both of your shooting-irons loose into the air--I'll do the rest,"
replied Moore.

Cr-r-r-rack! Pointing his weapons skyward, Bodson had quickly obeyed
Moore's command.

"Now, what--" began one of the raiders, wheeling instantly.

"Rafe's going to give 'em a proper send off," grinned one of Duff's men.

"No!" shouted the other. "That's a bluff. He and Jeff are trying to
queer the whole game."

With cries of anger, several of the men sprang toward Jeff, who had
bared his sheath knife and was about to free Tom and Harry.

"Here--stop that, you traitors!" roared Duff, leaping forward.

"I've four shots left, Jim," remarked Rafe Bodson calmly, as he ceased
firing. "Call me names, if you think it wise."

Like a flash Duff drew one of his own revolvers. Before he had time
to fire, however, three men threw themselves between Bodson and the
gambler.

"Stop talking gun play, Rafe," warned one of the three. "Act like a
gentleman."

"I've forgotten how to do that," Rafe remarked. "I've traveled with this
outfit too long."

"Put up your guns. Then we'll attend to this pair of youngsters."

"My guns remain in my hands," Bodson declared coolly. "I expect to die
with my boots on to-night. I reckon Jeff has figured it out the same
way."

"I have," Moore answered coolly, as he stepped over beside Bodson.
Then deliberately, yet with an indescribably swift motion, he drew two
revolvers.

"Stand out, Jim Duff! Be a man, for once in your miserable career,"
ordered Rafe Bodson. "Don't try to protect yourself by hiding behind the
bodies of men who don't know any better than