by a violent effort,
hurled Prescott from him and rose, ready for battle.

But Dick landed close beside the sawed-off shotgun, which he snatched
from the ground as he rose to his feet.

"You cur!" said Dick. "Robbing girls!"

"I hated to do it," growled Tag, looking somewhat shamefaced.
"But I've got to have money to get away from this corner of the
world. The deputies are out after me, and they'll get me yet,
if I stay here."

With a quick movement Dick threw the gun open at the breech.

"It isn't loaded," Tag informed him grimly. "This is the piece
of iron that holds cartridges."

From a hip pocket he brought a heavy, long-barreled revolver into
sight.

"You can't scare me with firearms," declared Dick doughtily.
"Nor are you going to rob these young women, who are my best friends."

"I'm not going to try again," announced Tag. "What I want is
for you to keep away from me, and not follow me. If you do---well,
you can guess the answer! Now, as I'm going, give me that gun."

"I won't," Dick declared firmly, holding it by the muzzle and
ready to employ the weapon as a club.

"You'll make a lot of trouble and danger for yourself and the
girls if you don't put the gun on the ground and walk away from
it," warned Tag, glowering.

"I won't drop the only weapon that I have," Dick returned firmly.
"You could down me easily unless I had something like this to
swing. As long as these young women are under my protection I
will not give up the only weapon that I have."

"If I press the trigger of this pistol," challenged Tag, "will
you be able to offer the girls much protection then?"

"Perhaps not," Prescott rejoined. "But shooting me will be the
only way that you can get this gun from me."

There could be no doubt that the high school boy meant just what
he said. Tag, who was not accustomed to wasting time in crises,
turned angrily on his heel.

"Hold on there a moment," called Dick. The other boy baited,
turning about. "Do you remember what I told you the other day?"
demanded Prescott.

"You've told me a lot of things I never took from any other kid,"
growled Tag.

"Do you remember what I told you about your father, his love for
you, and his desire to meet and claim you?"

"Old Bill Mosher's love?" laughed Tag harshly. "I'd stay and
laugh a while at that, but I've other business for to-day."

"No; your real father, Mr. Page!" Dick cried after him, as Tag
started away. "Bill Mosher found