Hello, Mike,"
as another officer came running up in answer to the shots and the
raps of the night-stick. "Couple of strong-arm-men tackled this
young fellow just now. I saw something going on as I turned the
corner, and I rapped and ran up. They went down that way. I fired at
'em. You take after 'em, Mike, and I'll stay here. Don't believe you
can land 'em, but try! I came up too quick to allow 'em to get
anything, though."

Tom did not contradict this. He knew, however, that, had the men who
attacked him wished to take his watch or money, they could have done
it several times before the officer arrived.

"It was the map they were after," thought Tom, "not my watch or
money. This is more of the Foger's work. We must get away from
here."

The policeman inquired for more particulars from Tom, who related
how the hold-up had taken place. The young inventor, however, said
nothing about the map he carried, letting the officer think it was
an ordinary attempt at robbery, for Tom did not want any reference
in the newspapers to his search for the valley of gold.

Presently the other policeman returned, having been unable to get
any trace of the daring men. The two bluecoats wanted to accompany
Tom back to the airship shed, for his own safety, but he declared
there was no more danger, and, after having given his name, so that
the affair might be reported at headquarters, he was allowed to go
on his way. His head ached from the blow, but otherwise he was
unhurt.

"Those fellows have been keeping watch for me," the lad reasoned, as
he walked quickly toward the airship shed. "They must have been
shadowing me, and they hid there until I came back. Andy Foger and
his father must be getting desperate. I think I know why, too. That
little dig I gave Andy about his map is bearing fruit. He begins to
think it's the wrong map, and he wants to get hold of the right one.
Well, they shan't if I can help it. We'll be away from here in the
morning."

There was indignation and some alarm among Tom's friends when he
told his story a little later that night.

"Bless my walking-stick!" cried Mr. Damon. "You'll need a bodyguard
after this."

"I'd just like t' git my hands on them fellers!" exclaimed the old
miner. "I'd show 'em!" and a look at his rugged frame and his
muscular arms and gnarled hands showed Tom and Ned that in the event
of a fight they could count much on Abe Abercrombie.

"I am glad there will be no more delays, and