passed. Those who thus went
sprawling tripped up the others and the scramble enabled him to get a
good sprinting lead. Fear sped his feet. He seemed not merely to run;
he took wing and flew--a screeching, gibbering madman.

And laughing loudly, yelling, brandishing their clubs, the whole crazy
howling mob took after him.

Kendrick gnashed his teeth as he watched and waited. His throat was
dry, his fingers twitching with repressed rage. When at last he spoke
his voice was hoarse.

"Ready, Cork? There's only one in sight. Come on!"

"Leave'm to me!" growled McCorquodale huskily, grabbing up a stout
stick. "You look after Stiles."

They dashed into the open at top speed. The man who had remained
behind to guard the second prisoner was still standing in the same
spot, holding Stiles by the coat-collar and listening to the receding
uproar and the wild screams of Podmore as he fled for his life. Both
the man and his prisoner were gazing off towards the tote road down
which the stragglers of the chase were just disappearing. McCorquodale
was within ten feet of them before the fellow turned. As the detective
scooted at him he let out a startled yell which was effectively chopped
in the middle by the descending blow.

"Mr. Kendrick!" gasped the white-faced Stiles, his eyes bright.

"Quick, Jimmy!"

He cut the cords that pinioned the other's arms and hustled the
speechless youth across the clearing.

"Hi, there! Stop!"

Red McIvor at the door of the shanty had just caught sight of them. He
jumped back inside for a rifle.

"Beat it!" yelled McCorquodale. "Under cover!"

The bullets clipped twigs from the trees as the three plunged into the
woods.

"This way. Quick! Follow me, you fellows," cried Phil. He jumped a
log and struck to the left at a sharp angle. "I know a place where we
can stand them off--if we can make it."

They floundered on, barking their shins in the darkness that
encompassed them beyond the circle of the bonfires. Behind them McIvor
was hallooing to his scattered followers at the top of his lungs and
cursing impotently between hollers as he poked about at the edge of the
clearing.

The bedlam which had broken loose when Podmore was freed had trailed
out to a scatter of noise in the distance. Far away the shrieks of the
half-demented man of money still rose above the shouting and cat-calls,
but they were growing less frequent and fainter. Podmore was making
good time app