Tom and Harry put their fists into instant action, but it availed them nothing.
In a twinkling they were borne to the floor.

At lightning speed both were rolled over and bound.
From the tents of the laborers, beyond hoarse voices sounded as the men were awakened by the shots.
"Get back there, you idiots!" commanded a voice outside.

"If you don't, you'll think that a Gatling gun factory has blown up about your ears." Reports rang out sharply as a dozen revolver shots were fired into the air.
Now, dazed with the suddenness of the attack, Reade and Hazelton were dragged into the open.
Their two night watchmen, who had gone down bravely, now lay wounded on the ground, their weapons snatched from them.
"Hoist 'em along, boys," ordered a gruff voice.
Tom and Harry were carried on the shoulders of men, and moved along at a swift pace.

Only half a dozen of the raiders needed to remain somewhat in the rear, firing an occasional shot to prevent the unarmed laborers from swarming to the attack.
"Hoist 'em up! Tie 'em on! Get under way quick! There'll be a big noise raised after us soon," declared the same directing voice.
Tom and Harry were fairly thrown upon the backs of horses, and there lashed fast.
"Mount and get away," ordered the commander of this strangest of night raids.
Two men, each leading a pony to which a captive was lashed, rode off in one direction.

Groups of two or three rode away in other directions, the blackness of the night swallowing them up.
It was going to be a difficult task for pursuers to know which direction to take in order to come up with Reade and Hazelton in time to save them from the fate that lay just ahead of them! For audacity and dash the raid could not have been better planned.
From camp not a shot was fired, for the watchmen had had the only weapons and these had been seized by the invaders.
"Our foremen might telegraph to camp," thought Tom swiftly, as he felt himself being carried away.