He had traversed the entire length of the cellar and was about to start a search of the secret passage when he heard a number of shots fired in rapid succession. Soon after, to his dismay, his engine stopped running. In desperation he raced back through the cellar and collided with a man who had just started to come down the cellar stairs. A fierce battle ensued between them, Mason’s adversary striving to bring his revolver butt down on his head. The fellow wore a mask and after repeated attempts Mason succeeded in tearing it off. The gunman was a stranger to him. Mason redoubled his efforts and backheeling the man, threw him downstairs. The delay had proved costly, however, and when he got out to his car he found the gasoline tank punctured with bullet holes. In the distance a party of horsemen with Josephine, Ethel and Percy in their midst were riding hard for the foothills. “Oh, hell,” he swore to himself as he leaned dejectedly against his useless racer. “I’m some rescuer, I don’t think. Why didn’t Trent Burton’s message come through sooner. The news two weeks old and those cut-throats at large all this time. I think now that the four riders Gaylor and I saw that day were just a scouting party of Ricker’s. Yes, and the rifle shot that blew my tire out was some of their dirty work too. Lucky the bullet hit a tire instead of one of the girls, but it wasn’t their fault that it didn’t.” The thought of the girls’ plight nerved him to swift action and he set out to search the premises for a horse. He wondered what had become of the two cowboys who were in charge of the ranch. His mind was bordering on a state of frenzy after he had searched the corral and failed to find a horse. About a hundred yards from the corral lay the bunk-house. It was a large building and Mason noticed there was a small shed attached to the far corner of it. Something impelled him to look the building over, and it was well that he did so. Upon entering the bunk-house he found the two guards. They were bound and gagged and tied to one of the bed posts. Mason liberated them, after which he stood regarding them with scorn. “Well, you’re a fine pair of huskies, I must say,” he said contemptuously. “Hell’s to pay about this ranch, and here I find you two cowboys trussed up like two fine turkeys. Both girls carried off by Ricker and his gang of cut-throats and no one here to stop them. How did it happen, anyway?” he wound up savagely. Both cowboys had been spare hands at the Bar X ranch, and Mason felt that Bud had made a mistake in not placing more competent men in charge of the Ricker ranch. His own choice would have been the two fire eaters, Scotty Campbell and Red Sullivan.