ent
Newnham, and one leaden pellet carried off that gentleman's soft
hat.

"Please lie down, Mr. Newnham," begged Tom, turning around. Now
that the fight had opened the cub chief saw less use for the binocular.
"We can't have you hit, sir. You're the head of the company,
please remember."

"I don't like this place, but I'm only one human life here," the man
from Broadway replied quietly, gravely. "If other men so readily
risk their lives for the property of my associates and myself, then
I'm going to expose myself at least as much as these young men ahead
of us do."

"Just one shot apiece," sounded Dave Fulsbee's steady voice.
"Fire where you've been told."

It was an irregular volley that ripped out from the defenders
of the camp. Half of the marksmen fired to the right of the rook,
the others at its crest.

Right on top of this came another volley, fired from some new
point of attack. It filled the air at this end of the camp with
bullets.

"Livin' rattlers!", cried Dave Fulsbee, leaping to his feet. "That's
the real attack. Reade, locate that main body and turn us loose on
'em. If you don't, the fellows in the real ambush will soon make a
sieve of this camp. There must be a regiment of 'em!"

CHAPTER XVIII

WHEN THE CAMP GREW WARM

President Newnham had prudently decided to lie down flat on the ground.

Nor was it any reflection on his courage that he did so. He was
taking no part in the fight, and the leaden tornado that swept
the camp from some unknown point was almost instantly repeated.

At the same time the marksmen on and at the right of the bald
knob continued to fire. The camp defenders were in a criss-cross
of fire that might have shaken the nerves of an old and tried
soldier.

Tom watched the ground as bullets struck, trying to decide their
original course from the directions in which the dust flew. Then
he swung around to the right.

With modern smokeless powder there was no light, bluish haze to
mark the firing line of the new assailants. Tom Reade had to
search and explore with his binocular glass until he could make
out moving heads, waving arms.

"I've found 'em, Fulsbee!" young Reade cried suddenly, above the
noise of rifles within a few yards of where they stood, as the
engineers made the most of their chances to fire. "Turn the same
way that I'm looking. See that blasted pine over there to your
right, about six hundred there to the gully southeast of the