CHAPTER IV
SOLD OUT FOR A TOY BALE!
Jim Ferrers had stated a plain truth when he remarked that Nevada men did not often waste ammunition.
With four rifles aimed at him, at that short, point-blank range, it would seem that Jim's last moment had come.
Yet at that instant the sound of an approaching motor ear was heard.
Then the car, moving at twelve miles an hour mounted the crest at a point less than seventy yards from where the four ambushed men lay.
Joe Timmins caught sight of them.
"Take the wheel!" muttered Timmins, forcing Parkinson's nearer hand to the wheel.
In an instant Joe was upon his feet, drawing his revolver. He fired at the men in ambush, but a lurch of the car on the rough ground destroyed his aim.
"Dolph Gage and his rascals at the ridge," bellowed Joe, in a fog-horn voice, pointing.