“I’ll go,” said Dave.
“You’ll do nothing of the sort!” exclaimed Tom, heroically.
He brushed hastily past the stout boy, and, with a fast-beating heart, swung open the big front door and stepped outside.
“Up with your hands!” came a ringing order. “Do you surrender?”
HE LOOKED UP AT THE MAN
For the first time gaining an unobstructed view, Tom Clifton uttered a gasp of astonishment. A half dozen red-coated figures stationed at different points were covering him with revolvers.
“Great Scott—the—the Mounted Police!” he cried.
The feeling of relief was so great that he almost felt like bursting into a laugh.
“Do we surrender? Why, certainly—anything to oblige.”