CHAPTER V.

POMP’S RESCUE.

But it was hardly likely that the cowboys would stand their ground long under such a fire.

As fast as they could Frank and Barney worked the repeaters.

The result was that quite a number of the foe lay dead upon the prairie.

But Artemas Cliff knew the fatality of remaining there. Being unable to catch the man, he knew that their only hope now was in retreat.

All of the cowboys fired at the Steam Man. The bullets rattled harmlessly against the steel cage.

Frank at once sprang to the reins and the brake and started the Steam Man in pursuit. It was quite a turning of tables.

The pursuers were now the pursued.

So it continued until suddenly, by the orders of Cliff, the cowboys turned their horses into the river and forded it.

Once on the other side they were soon beyond the reach of the rifle balls. The Steam Man of course could not follow.

The encounter with the cowboys was at an end.

They did not return to the attack, somewhat singularly, but kept on until the rolling plains hid them from view.

Cliff’s direful threat against the Steam Man and its inventor, had not been carried out. But Frank did not, by any means, delude himself with the belief that the villain would relinquish the attempt so easily.

“Well, Barney,” he cried, cheerily, when satisfied that the scrimmage was over. “We came out of that scrape a little the best of it. It has all turned out as I expected. That Cliff is the real murderer.”

“Begorra, it luks that way, Misther Frank,” agreed Barney.

“So it does. We must plan to capture the villain, and wring a confession from him.”

“Be jabers that’s thrue. If I only had an opportunity I’d pretty quick wring his loon neck for him.”

“But that does not settle the question of Pomp’s fate,” declared Frank. “He must be saved.”

“Shure, Misther Frank.”

“But how can we do it?”

This was yet a conundrum.

Frank and the faithful Irishman stood looking at each other. It was a long time before either spoke.

Finally Frank said:

“There’s only one way, Barney.”

“An’ phwat’s that?”

“We’ve got to got into those hills in some way. I don’t like to leave the Steam Man, but to save Pomp I’d——”

The young inventor ceased speaking. A strange medley of sounds came from the direction of the pass.

There were wild yells and pistol shots, and then, out upon the prairie, the two astonished travelers saw a motley crew of horses and savages emerge.

The savages were fighting furiously. Frank knew enough of the Indians of that region to know what it all meant.

A band of Sioux and a band of Pawnees, the deadliest of enemies, were engaged in a terrific battle.

Frank took in the scene at a glance.

He at once understood all.

The band which had captured Pomp was undoubtedly the one engaged in this conflict. They had very likely met the Pawnees in the upper part of the pass.

When the Pawnees and Sioux met a fight always followed. Generally the latter came off victorious.

As it seemed now, however, the Pawnees had the best of it.

They were worsting the Sioux in good fashion. Frank and Barney watched the scene a moment until suddenly a sharp cry burst from Barney.

“Begorra, Misther Frank, if there ain’t the naygur.” he cried, wildly.

Barney was right. Frank glanced in the direction indicated and saw a thrilling act.

In the midst of the Sioux was Pomp bound to the back of a mustang.

Suddenly in the midst of the melee the horse was seen to bolt from the rest and dash out upon the prairie.

Of course, Pomp had no control over the beast, having his hands tied behind him.

The mustang took his own course and ran like the wind.

The Sioux did not dare to any of them attempt pursuit. The foe in their front claimed their attention.

“Bejabers, the horse is runnin’ away wid the naygur,” cried Barney. “Phwat will we do, Misther Frank?”

“Catch him if we can,” cried Frank, seizing the throttle rein.

He opened the throttle and let the Steam Man go ahead; with long strides the machine began to gain upon the mustang.

Pomp was vainly endeavoring to free his hands.

If he could have done so, and could have got hold of the reins once, he could easily have stopped the horse.

But this he was unable to do.

As a result, the animal carried him along swiftly, and along the base of the hills.

Suddenly the mustang swerved and darted into a narrow pass.

Barney, at the loop-holes of the wagon with rifle in hand, had been sorely tempted to fire at the runaway.

But the fear of hitting Pomp had restrained him.

Now, however, the horse was out of range. But Frank headed the Steam Man for the pass.

Fortunately, it was unobstructed by bowlders, and had a good level floor. The Steam Man was enabled to forge along with safety.

But the mustang and his black rider had gone from sight. However the pursuers kept on.

Suddenly they came out upon a broad plateau with steep descent upon all other sides. This extended among the hills for a distance of several miles.

A great cry of horror now went up from Frank and Barney.

The mustang was seen racing along the edge of a mighty chasm. In a few seconds he would be almost sure to take an impossible leap over a deep gorge.

If he should go to the bottom of that gorge it would be the end of Pomp and the mustang.

This was seen at a glance and with the most intense of horror Barney cried:

“Shall I fire, Misther Frank? It’s the only thing as will save the naygur.”

“You will have to do that,” replied Frank, sharply. “Look out for your aim, Barney. God help Pomp!”

Barney pulled the trigger.

Crack!

The bullet sped true to its mark. It struck the mustang in the side.

The animal faltered, threw up its head, stumbled, and then pitched forward in a heap.

Pomp lay beneath the horse. It did not require but a few moments for the Steam Man to reach him, however.

In a twinkling Barney sprang out of the wagon and cut Pomp’s bonds.

The darky was not in the least injured. He lay with one leg under the mustang, but was easily extricated.

The joy of the darky at his rescue cannot be expressed in words.

He embraced Barney effusively.

“Shure I thought yez kilt intoirely, naygur,” cried the big-hearted Irishman. “It’s moighty glad I am to see yez aloive.”

“Yo’ kin jest bet dis chile am glad fo’ to get out ob dem red debbils’ hands,” cried Pomp, exuberantly.

And then he dashed aboard the Steam Man and grasped Frank’s hand.

“Oh, Marse Frank, I’se dretful glad to see yo’!” cried Pomp, excitedly.

“I am glad to have you back, Pomp,” cried Frank. “And to know that you are unharmed in any way. But it was a close shave for you.”

“‘Deed it was dat, Marse Frank. But dis nigger am powerful hard for to kill, an’ specs dat’s why I lib. But I’se got lots to tell you, Marse Frank.”

“You have?” exclaimed Frank.

“‘Deed I has. P’raps yo’ kin find it valuable fo’ yo’. I’ll jes’ tell yo’ dat when we went up troo dat pass we jes’ cum out pretty quick in a valley. Dat ar’ valley was a scrumptious one, an’ dar was a trail leadin’ down inter it. But afore the Injuns could ride down inter it along cum six white men on hossback an’ a right pert young lady on a hoss, too.

“Sakes alibe I nebber seen so pretty a gal in all mah life. Well, dese yer men, dey seemed like dey was ‘quainted wid der Injuns. Dey jes’ talked as free like wid old Black Buffalo, an’ I jes’ opened my ears an’ listened.

“Dey said dat de gal was a prisoner an’ dey was takin’ her from a cave in de hills to Ranch V. Dey mentioned de name ob Artemas Cliff. Den dey rode on, sah, an’ mah sakes, jus’ den up from the valley dere came a hull gang ob Ingines and pitched into us. Ob cose yo’ know all de res’.”

Frank Reade, Jr., listened with the deepest amazement to this exciting story.

“A young girl!” he gasped. “Of course those men were Cliff’s, but where on earth were they going?”

“Dey done said it was to Ranch V. sah.”

“Ranch V!” repeated Frank. “That is not very definite. But it must be the headquarters of Cliff and his gang. You didn’t hear them say just where that ranch was located, Pomp?”

“No sah, but I jes’ took note ob de direckshun dey was goin’ an’ it was to de souf-west.”

“Well,” said the young inventor as he turned the Steam Man about, “I cannot imagine who the young girl is or how she fell into the hands of Cliff’s gang. But it is certain that she is in their power and we must save her.”

“Be jabers that’s roight, Misther Frank,” cried Barney, gallantly, “the O’Sheas from Brian Boru down war always known as men av honor an’ defenders av female virtue.”

The Steam Man started on the return across the plateau.

It was Frank Reade, Jr.’s intention to reach the prairie once more and strike out to the southwest, in the hopes of locating the Ranch V.

The Steam Man ran swiftly to the mouth of the pass which led down to the prairie.

Barney had filled the furnace with fresh coal, and the indicator showed that there was plenty of water in the boiler.

Frank was about to enter the pass when suddenly Pomp sprang up with a wild cry.

The darky sprang to Frank’s side and tried to grab the throttle rein.

Frank was astounded.

“Hold on there, Pomp. What are you trying to do?” he cried.

“Ki dar, Marse Frank. Stop de Man, or fo’ de Lawd we am all done fo’, suah as preachin’!”

“What?” gasped Frank.

“If yo’ don’t believe it, jes look up yonder?”

Pomp pointed one finger upward to the canyon wall above the pass. The sight which rewarded the startled gaze of the young inventor caused him to reverse the throttle and bring the Steam Man to a halt.

Two cowboys were crouching behind an enormous bowlder which they had intended to roll down upon the Steam Man.