and then the foremost ruffians
in the crowd surged in through the tent door.

But Dave had succeeded in lighting a lantern, and this he took
time to hang from a hook on the nearest pole.

Five boys clad only in their pajamas faced this angry rabble.
Dan Dalzell slept through the confusion until Reade, in passing
him, hauled him from bed.

"What are you men doing here?" thundered Reade, striding to the
head of the little group of defenders.

Dick was now beside him like a flash.

"You fellows get out of here!" Prescott ordered, his eyes flaming.

"We'll get out when we get ready!" came the hoarse answer. "Now,
friends, show these young imps-----"

But that speaker got no further, for a blow from Tom's fist brought
him to the ground.

All six of Dick & Co. were now on the fistic firing line.

For a few moments they carried all but consternation to their
opponents. As they were forced back from the doorway, however,
more and more of the mob poured in.

The very weight of numbers was bound to count against Dick & Co.
who were likely to suffer severely at the hands of the miscreants.

Just then there came a flash across the canvas of the tent. The
light had been thrown by a swiftly-moving automobile. There was
another automobile directly behind it. Both cars came to a stop
at the roadside, while from them leaped more than a dozen men.

These men were armed---each with a horsewhip. In an instant the
invaders found them selves assailed from behind.

Whish! slash! zip!

In another instant all was uproar. Yells of pain from the mob
rent the air, for these latest arrivals were laying about them
with their horsewhips with an energy worthy of a good cause.

"Here, you, Andy Hartshorn. Stop that! Don't you hit me! I
know you, and I'll have the law on you!" shrieked one of the
frightened wretches.

"He who goes to law should have his own hands clean," quoth Farmer
Hartshorn, as he dealt the fellow a stinging blow on the legs.

Those of the crowd outside the tent fled in every direction, hotly
pursued, and again and again they were stung by the lashes.

Those of the invaders still in the tent were now in a panic to
get out and away. As they dashed through the doorway they felt
the slashing of horsewhips, while Dick Prescott and his chums
hammered them from the rear.

In less than thirty seconds the invaders had been cleared away.
They fled in screaming panic, scattering in all directions, some
of