bang!

"Hi, there, Riley!" roared Tom promptly. "Saddle two horses as
quickly as you can. Harry, make ready to follow with me as soon
as the horses are ready."

"Is anything wrong?" inquired the president. He was answered by more
explosions in the distance.

"I'm afraid so," Tom muttered, showing his first trace of uneasiness.
"However, I don't want to say, Mr. Newnham, until I've investigated."

Before the horses were ready Tom descried, half a mile away, on
a clear bit of trail, a horseman riding in at a furious gallop.

"There comes a messenger, Mr. Newnham," Tom went on. "We'll soon
know just what the trouble is."

"Trouble?" echoed Mr. Newnham, in astonishment. "Then you believe
that is the word, do you?"

"I'm afraid, Mr. Newnham, that you've reached here just in time to
see some very real trouble," was Reade's quick answer. "But wait
just two minutes, sir, and we'll have exact information. Guessing
won't do any good."

Once or twice, through the trees, they caught sight of the on-rushing
rider. Then Jack Rutter, a big splotch of red on the left sleeve
of his shirt, rode hard into camp.

"Reade," he shouted, "we're ambushed! Hidden scoundrels have
been firing on us."

"You've ordered all the men in?" called Tom, as Rutter reined
up beside him.

"Every man of them," returned Jack. "Poor Reynolds, of the student
party, is rather seriously hit, I'm afraid. Some of the fellows
are bringing him in."

"You're hit yourself," Tom remarked.

"What? That little scratch?" demanded Rutter scornfully. "Don't
count me as a wounded man, Reade. There are some firearms in
this camp. I want to get the men armed, as far as the weapons
will go, and then I want to go back and smoke out the miserable
rascals!"

"It won't be wise, Jack," Tom continued coolly. "You'll find
that there are too many of the enemy. Besides, you won't have
to fatigue yourselves by going back over the trail. The scoundrels
will be here, before long. They doubtless intend to wipe out
the camp."

"Assassins coming to wipe out the camp?" almost exploded President
Newnham. "Reade, this is most extraordinary!"

"It is---very," Tom assented dryly.

"But who can the villains be?"

"A picked-up gang of gun-fighters, sent here to blow this camp
off the face of the earth, since that is the only way that the
backers of the rival road can find to set us back," Tom rejoined.
"If they drive us away from here, they'll attack the