CHAPTER XV.

THE VIGILANTES TO THE RESCUE.

The appearance of the savages was most inopportune.

Mounted on their fleet ponies, with wild yells they swept down upon the party.

The three Indian captors yelled with delight.

Frank and Barney of course came to a halt. Of course it was folly to tempt fate.

To attempt to stand against that gang was folly.

“By Jupiter!” gasped the young inventor. “It’s all up with us, Barney! We are badly beaten!”

“Tare an’ ‘ounds!” grumbled the angry Celt. “That beats all me woife’s relations! Phwativer shall we do now, Misther Frank?”

“Beat a retreat,” declared the young inventor. “Come on, Barney!”

“It’s mesilf as hates to retreat,” said Barney, stubbornly. “Oh, if we only had the Steam Man an’ the naygur here now we’d moighty soon turn the thing about.”

The two rescuers now turned about and hastily beat a retreat across the valley.

But they had not gone far when the Indians began to ford the creek for the purpose of giving pursuit.

Barney saw the move and called Frank’s attention to it.

“Be me sowl, Misther Frank!” cried the Irishman, excitedly, “we’ve got to make quick toime, or they’ll have our scalps.”

“You are right, Barney.”

But at that moment Frank Reade, Jr., lifted his gaze, and a mighty cry escaped his lips.

Directly in front of them, a body of armed men swept into the valley.

They were the Vigilants, and at their head rode Harmon. At sight of Frank and Barney they urged their horses on faster with a loud cheer.

This was answered by the two fugitives, with a will.

The savages, seeing the Vigilants, now changed their tactics. They turned their horses about and rode swiftly on the back trail.

Frank could hardly wait for Harmon and his men to come up.

Enthusiastic greetings were exchanged, and also experiences.

The Vigilants had driven the Apaches before them into the hills.

But upon entering the fastnesses, with which they were not familiar, the Indians had given them the slip.

In the search, they had come upon the scene at an opportune moment.

There seemed no better thing to do than to give pursuit to the savages at once.

Accordingly a couple of spare horses were provided for Frank and Barney, and they rode forward on the charge.

The delay had been brief, but it had enabled the savages to cross the creek and start for the defile beyond,

Down thundered the vigilants in hot pursuit.

The creek was quickly forded and the pursuers seemed to be gaining at every bound.

But of a sudden the savages executed a peculiar and inexplicable maneuver.

Suddenly and without warning they split in two sections, one going to the right and the other to the left.

In one division was the girl captive, Bessie Rodman, and in the other Walter Barrows.

The party who had the girl in charge started for the defile.

The other made directly across the valley. In a flash of time the purpose of the savages was made apparent.

The vigilants could not go both ways with splitting up.

As they were much less in number than the Apaches the result of this would be to greatly weaken them, if not actually place them at the mercy of the red foe.

On the other hand it was a problem as to which direction to pursue or which party to follow.

Harmon drew a slight rein upon his horse and wavered a moment.

The vigilants naturally were inclined to go to the rescue of their comrade, but Frank Reade, Jr., comprehending the folly of this, cried:

“The girl first. We can rescue the man later.”

“Yes!” cried Harmon, in a voice of thunder; “that is our duty! The girl first, boys; then we will try and save Barrows.”

The vigilants cheered, and away thundered the troop toward the defile.

A few moments later they reached it and entered it.

High walls of black, forbidding rock arose on either side to a mighty height. The bed of the defile was rough and strewn with bowlders.

It was harder for the horses of the vigilants to pick their way through here than the fleet-footed ponies of the savages.

Accordingly the Indians gained quite a lead. But after a quarter of a mile of the defile had been traversed the vigilants were brought to a halt in an unceremonious manner.

The defile seemed suddenly to take an upward trend here, and high piles of bowlders made a barrier of some height.

Suddenly from behind this barrier there came the flash of rifle muzzles, and a volley of bullets came rattling down through the defile.

Two of the vigilants were wounded, and Harmon instantly called a halt.

Cover was quickly sought behind rocks and corners near.

It was evident that the Indians had here made a stand. The Vigilant leader was puzzled.

But suddenly Frank Reade, Jr., gave a sharp cry:

“Listen!”

His acute ear had caught the sound of horses’ hoofs coming up the defile in their rear.

“By thunder!” ejaculated Harmon, with sudden terrible comprehension, “we are trapped!”

The men gazed blankly at each other.

Nothing was more apparent. The Apaches under the shrewd Red Bear had certainly very cleverly outgeneraled them.

Led into the defile by one division of the Apaches, the other had proceeded to block up the outlet, and thus literally the Vigilants were in a trap.

There was not the advantage in facing a foe in this manner that there was in having him wholly in the front.

To be attacked both front and rear would demoralize even the largest and bravest of armies. Harmon was completely taken aback.

“Wall, I swan!” he exclaimed, with earnestness, “I never believed an Injun could beat me in any such way as that. But we are in for it, boys, and no mistake. We’ve got to fight hard.”

The savages in front were keeping up a raking fire.

Those in the rear had now drawn near enough to also open fire. The fun had begun.

But the brave band of white men had no thought of fear or of retreat.

They at once, by Harmon’s direction, sought safe places of cover and proceeded to return the fire.

Every time an Indian’s top-knot showed above the fringe of rocks, it was made a target of.

Thus, the battle was kept up for over an hour.

Then an idea occurred to the inventive mind of Frank Reade, Jr.

He had carefully examined the face of the pass. In doing so he had discovered what looked like a feasible foot path over the cliff.

At once he called Harmon aside and explained a plan to him.

“I think we can defeat the savages easily in this manner,” he declared. “Give me five men and I will guarantee a surprise for them.”

“Mr. Reade, take what force you need,” declared the vigilant leader. “I have full confidence in your ability to do as you say. May you succeed.”

Frank at once selected five men from the troop.

Then with Barney he led the way cautiously up the path.

Fortunately, it was overhung with foliage to a large extent, so that they were hidden from the view of those in their rear.

In a few moments a position near the brow of the cliff had been reached. Then Frank’s surmise was verified.

The little party could look down upon the heads of the savages. It was an easy matter to pour a volley amongst them with most demoralizing effect.

Frank sent one of the men back down the cliff, to give Harmon the cue when to make a charge.

Then at a favorable moment Frank gave the order to fire.

Six repeating rifles were turned upon the savages, and as fast as they could be worked, they were engaged in firing a volley down upon the heads of the exposed savages.

The effect was startling.

The savage is never the one to stand in open field and fight. At once a panic seized them.

It was the moment for the charge, and Harmon’s men rushed forward.

Up over the rocks they went. In a twinkling the savages were driven from their entrenchments and utterly routed, and completely dispersed.

Frank Reade, Jr., and Barney saw their opportunity, and rushed upon two of the savages who had Bessie Rodman in charge.

In a moment the girl captive was free once more and among friends. The two guards fled for their lives.

All this had happened in a twinkling of an eye, comparatively speaking. But the fight was not over.

The force in the rear were coming to the attack.

But Harmon’s men were now in a position to command the defile.

A quick, sharp conflict ensued, and the Apaches were driven back with great slaughter.

The vigilants had thus far the best of it.

The enemy had been routed, and Bessie Rodman rescued.

Only one other thing now remained to be accomplished, and this was the rescue of Walter Barrows.

But even as the question was being discussed a loud cry arose, and the next moment a hatless, blood-stained young man came dashing down over the cliff and fell half fainting in the midst of the vigilants.

It was Barrows.

In the midst of the fight the plucky young plainsman had succeeded in breaking his bonds, and after a desperate fight with two of his captors, had made his escape.

Everybody extended congratulations to the young couple, and then plans for the future were discussed.

It was not certain that the savages would not return to the attack.

But a report was brought in by a number of scouts sent out that the Apaches had withdrawn from the field entirely.

It was therefore decided to go back to Willow Creek.

It was not known whether Col. Clark had been victorious with the cowboys or nor.

Until this question was settled Harmon had no idea of returning home.

“Until Cliff and his gang have been wiped out of existence,” he declared, “I shall not give up ther chase.”

Frank and Barney were anxious to return at once to the Steam Man and Pomp.

They were, by no means, assured that the darky was safe or that he might not have got into trouble.

Accordingly the start was at once made for the prairie.

Down one of the defiles the vigilants rode. Coming out into the little valley they crossed this and entered the pass.

But they had not proceeded a hundred yards into the pass when one of the advance scouts came rushing back and gave a thrilling report.

“Ther cowboys are coming up ther pass!” he cried. “Thar’s a host of ‘em, and Art Cliff is at the head of ‘em.”

“The cowboys!” gasped Harmon.

The greatest excitement ensued.

“My soul!” exclaimed Frank Reade, Jr., in dismay. “Clark has been defeated!”

“Bad luck to the omadhouns!”

“But what of Pomp?” exclaimed Frank with alarm. “Barney, we ought at once to ascertain where he is.”

“To be shure, Misther Frank,” agreed the Celt, “but how in the name av all the saints are yez goin’ to do it? Be jabers, these cowboys have got us cornered.”

In a very few moments a large sized battle was in progress in the pass.