“Then let him put down the gun,” panted Laura without releasing her hold.

Belle seized Tag by his right arm, hanging on frantically.

But Dick, reaching the spot, laid hands on the shotgun.

“Let go, Laura,” he commanded sternly.  “I have hold of this gun.”

It was the tone of the high school boy, not her own fear, that made Laura Bentley obey.

“Let go of his arm, Belle,” Dick insisted.  “You girls get back out of harm’s way.”

“I won’t let go,” Belle insisted.  Then she resorted, excusably under the circumstances, to the somewhat feminine trick, of pinching Tag Mosher’s arm sharply.

That started the real fight.  Dick tripped the bigger fellow, and the pair went down together as Belle leaped back.

Click! click! sounded both descending hammers of the sawed-off shotgun.  For an instant—–­Prescott’s heart was in his mouth, for he knew something of the wicked scattering power of such a weapon, when discharged, and he feared for the girls.

The next instant, however, his common sense told him that the hammers had descended harmlessly.  By desperate force he wrenched the piece out of Tag’s hands, hurling it away.

Laura’s locket, and chain falling to the ground, Belle darted in and rescued them.

“He has my rings in his right-hand coat pocket,” Belle announced.

“He’ll give them up, then!” predicted Dick grimly, making a dive for that pocket.  He was on top, in the mix-up, and secured the rings, tossing them toward Belle.  Then Tag, by a violent effort, hurled Prescott from him and rose, ready for battle.

But Dick landed close beside the sawed-off shotgun, which he snatched from the ground as he rose to his feet.

“You cur!” said Dick.  “Robbing girls!”

“I hated to do it,” growled Tag, looking somewhat shamefaced.  “But I’ve got to have money to get away from this corner of the world.  The deputies are out after me, and they’ll get me yet, if I stay here.”

With a quick movement Dick threw the gun open at the breech.

“It isn’t loaded,” Tag informed him grimly.  “This is the piece of iron that holds cartridges.”

From a hip pocket he brought a heavy, long-barreled revolver into sight.

“You can’t scare me with firearms,” declared Dick doughtily.  “Nor are you going to rob these young women, who are my best friends.”

“I’m not going to try again,” announced Tag.  “What I want is for you to keep away from me, and not follow me.  If you do—–­well, you can guess the answer!  Now, as I’m going, give me that gun.”

“I won’t,” Dick declared firmly, holding it by the muzzle and ready to employ the weapon as a club.

“You’ll make a lot of trouble and danger for yourself and the girls if you don’t put the gun on the ground and walk away from it,” warned Tag, glowering.

“I won’t drop the only weapon that I have,” Dick returned firmly.  “You could down me easily unless I had something like this to swing.  As long as these young women are under my protection I will not give up the only weapon that I have.”