“There goes Hazelton right into the face of death!” gasped Mr. Ellsworth, who remained in a standing position. “Foolish of the boy, but magnificent!”
Harry had turned some time before, but now those in the automobile saw that Hazelton was riding squarely to Tom's side, despite the constant fusillade of bullets.
Both pistols were now emptied, but the pursuer, letting his reins fall on the neck of his madly galloping pony, was inserting fresh cartridges in the magazine chambers of his pistols.
CHAPTER XIX. THE SECRET OF ASHBY'S CUNNING
At a considerable distance behind the automobile came another rescue party. This was made up of about two score of Arizona horsemen. Many of these men were armed. At the saddle bows of some of the hung raw-hide lariats that the owners unwound as they sped forward.
Tom Reade, with the pursuer slowly, but steadily gaining upon him, had discovered the identity of the man who seemed bent on his destruction.
As Hazelton drew nearer Tom waved his left hand frantically at his chum.
“Turn about, Harry! Ride back like the wind!” shouted Tom. “It's Ashby, and he's shooting to kill. About face—you young idiot!”
Harry took no notice of the warning, reining in only slightly, then wheeling and riding in a line with Reade, though about forty feet to one side of him.