"And the money we worked so hard to get won't do the bank any
good," and Mr. Damon sighed.

"It's tough luck," agreed Tom.

"Come now, fork over that cash!" called the leader, advancing
still closer. "None of that talk between you there. If you think
you can work some trick on us you're mistaken. We're desperate
men, and we're well armed. The first show of resistance you make,
and we shoot--get that, fellows?" he added to his followers, and
they nodded grimly.

"Well," remarked Mr. Damon with an air of submission, "I only
want to warn you that you are acting illegally, and that you are
perpetrating a desperate crime."

"Oh, we know that all right," answered one of the men, and Tom
gave a start. He was sure he had heard that voice before. He
tried to remember it--tried to penetrate the disguise--but he
could not.

"I'll give you ten seconds more to hand over that bag of
money," went on the leader. "If you don't, we'll take it and some
of you may get hurt in the process."

There seemed nothing else to do. With a white face, but with
anger showing in his eyes Mr. Damon reached down to get the
valise. Tom had retained his grip of the steering wheel, and the
starting lever. He hoped, at the last minute, he might see a