his companions, rushed swiftly into the darkness. It was none too soon,
for at once a half score of men poured from the house, and the vicious
snap of the rifles, followed by the pin-n-n-g of the bullets, as they
cut the air close to their heads, caused the four men to drive their
spurs into their ponies until the blood dropped from their lacerated
flanks.

Galloping swiftly to where the herding ponies were tethered, Cummings
sprang from his horse and, whipping out his keen bowie knife, cut lariat
after lariat, stampeding the whole herd. This done he remounted his
horse, saying,

"NOW, we can take our time. They won't get a horse to saddle under an
hour," cantered off with an easy, strength-saving gait.

"Curse that Swanson," broke in Cummings, after riding in silence a few
moments. "Curse him, he kept me from making an extra ten thousand by his
cursed appearance."

Neither the Doctor nor Scip replied to this outburst from the
disappointed outlaw. The time for action was coming, and as fast as
their horses could gallop, the two outlaws were riding toward the trap
laid for them. Leaning forward, with the skill of an expert pickpocket,
Scip drew the revolver from the holster on Cummings' saddle, and dropped
it in the dry grass which bordered the trail. Watching his opportunity,
he pushed his horse against Moriarity, and in the slight confusion
caused by the collision, he managed to obtain Dan's revolver in the same
way. A whisper told the doctor that this had been done, and the
disguised detectives each rode beside the man which they were to
capture, the Doctor keeping his eye on Cummings and Scip ready to pull