"Whoa!" yelled Mason. "What's that? Whoa!"
Old King Brady aimed a pistol up in his face.
"It's me!" he cried.
"Thunder!" roared the man.
"You throw your hands up."
"What for?"
"Because we want you!"
A sneering laugh pealed from Mason's lips.
He dug spurs into his horse's flanks, and the brute sprang forward, maddened with pain, and knocked the old detective down.
Over him bounded the horse, and the next moment it went galloping away into the woods a few yards ahead, and vanished.