"Then you won't be sociable?" Reade demanded, as if half offended.
"Git out and go about your business," ordered the leader of the four men.
"It's always my business when women and children appear to be in danger," returned Tom. He turned on his heel, presenting his broad back as a target to the rifles as he stepped over to automobile party.
Oddly the four men, though they had the look of being desperate, did not offer to shoot.
Tom's audacity had almost cowed them for the moment.
"I hope I can be of some use to you," suggested Tom, raising his hat out of respect to the women.
"I reckon you can, if you're a good hand with a gun," replied the older of the two armed men with the motor party. "Got any shooting irons about you?"
"Nothing in that line," Tom admitted.
"Then reach under the cushion, left-hand front seat of that car," returned the same speaker. "You'll find an automatic revolver there."
Reade, however, chose to ignore the advice. He had small taste for the use of firearms.