CHAPTER XII.

THE FORTUNES OF WAR.

Just at that moment when utter destruction threatened the brave little band of vigilants the U. S. soldiers came upon the scene.

Nothing could have been more opportune.

It was the saving of the day. The emotions of all at sight of the glittering uniforms may be imagined.

A great shout of triumph went up. A yell of dismay came from the cowboys.

Then followed the rattling of steel and the flash of sabre blades. Before that charge what force could stand?

Backward the followers of Artemus Cliff were forced.

In vain the villain tried to rally them. They would not respond.

The odds were too great and they broke and fled in wild confusion. The next moment Pomp dashed up the incline and dropped from his horse almost at Frank Reade, Jr’s, feet.

“Bress de Lor’, Marse Frank,” he cried ecstatically. “Yo’ am alibe an’ well, an’ dis nigger hab brought yo’ a rescue aftah all. P’raps yo’ forgib me fo’ leabin’ de Steam Man when I hadn’t ought?”

“You are forgiven, Pomp!” cried Frank, lightly. “I might have done the same thing myself. I am glad no harm came to you. I had given you up.”

“‘Deed no, Marse Frank!” cried the delighted darky. “I is too bad fo’ to die. Hi dar, Pish, I is glad to see you!”

“Well, if it ain’t the naygur!” cried Barney, with a wild rush at Pomp. “Whurroo, it’s glad I am to see yez onct more alive an’ well! Bejabers that’s so!”

The two friends embraced warmly. Then Colonel Clark rode up and saluted all.

“It seems that you’ve been having a bit of a squall here,” he declared, “but at any rate you’ve vanquished the enemy.”

“With your timely assistance,” replied Frank. “But I believe we are not strangers, colonel.”

“Frank Reade, Jr., the inventor!” cried Clark, springing from the saddle and seizing Frank’s hand. “Well, now, I’m glad to see you. But come to think of it, your colored man mentioned the name of Frank Reade, but I never dreamed that it was you.”

“It is nobody else,” replied Frank with a laugh. “And I well remember you.”

“And I do you,” replied Clark. “I was once one of an army commission to visit you and make you an offer for one of your inventions on a gun.”

“You are right.”

“You would not sell it.”

“No,” replied Frank. “I do not care to sell any of my inventions. They are for my own use. I will always, however, put them at the disposal of the weak and oppressed.”

“Truly a noble sentiment,” agreed the colonel, “but I am anxious to capture this man Cliff. Hello! what have you there? A giant in iron? One of your new inventions is it? Well, that beats all.”

With this Clark proceeded to make an inspection of the Steam Man. A great crowd of the newcomers were doing the same.

It was an object of great wonderment. Frank showed its working to the entertainment of all.

But Cliff’s men had not been so easily beaten as the savages.

They had dispersed into the passes and were somewhat scattered, but here they made a stand and resisted stubbornly.

It was necessary to dislodge them as quickly as possible.

At any moment they might avail themselves of the fortunes of war and turn victory into defeat.

So Clark quickly called his men together.

Only a brief rest was all that he would accord them.

The bugle sounded “boots and saddles,” and every man was quickly mounted.

A plan was quickly outlined between Frank Reade, Jr., and Col. Clark.

This was that the cavalry should pursue and thoroughly rout the cowboys, even going down to Ranch V to effect its destruction.

The vigilants were to return home, and the cavalry would see to the punishment of Artemas Cliff.

But the Steam Man was to remain at a point below until the return of the cavalry.

If possible Cliff was to be captured alive and a confession wrung from his lips.

This plan had been agreed upon.

The vigilants were not wholly satisfied, yet did not demur.

Clark and his command dashed away into the hills.

The vigilants and the Steam Man started for the open prairie.

This division of forces very soon proved to be an unwise and unfortunate thing.

The fortunes of war are proverbial for changes.

Strongly intrenched in the hills, Cliff’s gang gave the soldiers a disastrous battle.

In vain the plucky young colonel tried to dislodge them.

They fought like tigers, and having the advantage of location, actually decimated the cavalry one half in number.

Until nightfall, Col. Clark kept persistently waging the battle.

Then he began to think of retreat.

But, to his horror, he found that this was by no means as easy a matter as he had fancied.

The foe had actually closed in upon him, and nearly every avenue of retreat was closed.

He was literally surrounded by the foe.

“My soul!” he muttered, in deep surprise; “this is not very good generalship on my part.”

What was to be done?

It was plainly impossible to dislodge the foe.

The little band of cavalrymen were now hardly adequate to cope with the foe in their front.

It really seemed as if Cliff had received reinforcements. The number of his band had in some mysterious manner been increased.

Darkness was coming on rapidly.

Something must be done, and at once. Col. Clark racked his brain for an expedient.

Certainly they must extricate themselves from this position, and without delay. Men were falling every moment about them, and the enemy’s line, like a cordon of death, was every moment drawing tighter about them.

Cold sweat broke out upon the intrepid colonel’s brow.

“My God!” he muttered. “What is to be done?”

It was a terrible question. They were literally in a trap of death.

Cliff was aware of this, and his men made the air hideous with their yells. Closer they crowded the line.

In this extremity Clark regretted having separated himself from the Vigilants and the Steam Man.

But this error had been made, and it was too late to correct it.

But the brave colonel was not long without an expedient.

He called out one of his pluckiest privates, and said:

“Jason, do you want to undertake a ticklish job?”

“I’m ready, sir,” replied the private, with a salute.

“You know we are in a tight box?”

“Yes, sir.”

“We must have reinforcements or the enemy will surely get the best of us.”

“It looks that way, sir.”

“Now, I want you to try to get through the enemy’s line. Look for the Vigilants and the Steam Man and tell them to come to our aid. Then ride to the fort as fast as you can for a fresh squad. Tell the officer in charge to send two hundred mounted men.”

“Very well, sir.”

“Do you think you can do this?”

“I will do it or I will not come back.”

Clark knew that Jason meant just what he said.

A few moments later the courier for relief slipped carefully into the shadows and was gone.

A prayer trembled on Clark’s lips.

“I don’t care for myself,” he muttered, “but I cannot bear to see my brave boys slaughtered like sheep.”

Darkness now thickly settled down. Of course no fighting could be done until the break of day.

But the cavalrymen were not in a position to guarantee them much rest.

Few of them dared to sleep, and then it was upon their arms.

As the night hours dragged by, Clark paced the ground upon the outskirts of the camp and listened for some sign of the return of Jason.

He knew that it was not possible for the faithful courier to return from the fort under two days.

But if the cavalry division was reinforced by the Vigilants and the Steam Man they might be able to keep the foe at bay until the fresh squad should arrive.

Thus the plucky young colonel clung to hope.

Time passed. It seemed an age to Clark before a silent shadowy form slipped out of the gloom and into the camp.

As it drew nearer he recognized the courier Jason.

“Well, my man!” he said, sharply. “You are back.”

Jason saluted quickly.

“Where are the reinforcements?”

“I did not find them.”

“But—did I not tell you to find them?” began the colonel, angrily.

“Easy, colonel,” said Jason, respectfully. “I think I have done a better thing, sir.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s a good ways to the fort. You might be cut to pieces before I could return. I have found an avenue by which I think we can escape.”

Clark’s manner changed instantly.

“You don’t mean it?” he exclaimed, excitedly. “What is it?”

Jason drew nearer and lowered his voice in a mysterious manner.

“Just over that pile of bowlders,” he whispered, “I found a narrow passage through the mountain side. It is almost a cavern, for the top is so closely overhung with bushes. It’s a close squeeze for the horses, but I think we can all get through and out upon the prairie before daybreak.”

Col. Clark was intensely excited.

“Good for you, Jason!” he cried, in a joyful manner. “Arouse the camp, but do it quietly. Put every man in his saddle within ten minutes. You have solved our salvation, and you shall be promoted.”

Jason hurried away to do the bidding of the colonel.

In a brief space of time the camp was aroused.

The weary soldiers, worn out with fighting, were only too glad to learn of the possibility of an escape.

At once preparations were made to steal a march upon the enemy.

The passage described by Jason was found. It was necessary to first pry aside a huge bowlder before passage could be made.

Into the passage the little band went, and one by one filed out into the valley beyond.

So skillfully was the move executed that the foe never dreamed of it. Daybreak came, and Cliff was furious to find that his intended victims had given him the slip during the night.

The cavalrymen had reached the prairie in safety, and galloped away from the hills.

Clark knew that his only and best move now was to return to the fort for reinforcements.

He could not hope to do anything with the foe with such a mere handful of men.

Accordingly, just as the sun appeared above the horizon, the little cavalcade, with its shattered ranks, galloped away across the plain.

No effort was made to search for the Vigilants.

Clark knew that even with their aid it would not be feasible to give battle to the cowboys.

Clearly it was necessary to have two hundred more men. The colonel set his lips vengefully.

“I will teach that desperado a lesson,” he muttered. “He shall be swept out of existence together with his rascally crew, and before another week.”

On over the prairie they galloped toward the fort.

And as they rode, thrilling adventures were the lot of Frank Reade, Jr., and his friends on board the Steam Man.

Let us, therefore, for a time, deviate here and follow their fortunes.