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.

Seeing, the young engineer's reluctance the younger of the two
armed men went himself to the car, taking out the revolver and
offering it to this cool young stranger.

"Thank you," was Tom's smiling reply. "But that tool is not for
me. I'm the two-hundred-and-thirteenth vice president of the
Peace Society."

"You'd better fight, or hike," advised the older of the two men.
"This isn't going to be a safe place for just nothing but chin.
And, ladies, I ask you to get behind one of the cars, since you
won't leave here. Throw yourselves flat on your faces. We don't