CHAPTER VIII.

ON TO RANCH V.

Plans were quickly made.

It was decided to work upon strategical grounds, as their force was so much lighter than Cliff’s.

“You see, if we can strike Ranch V. at a time when Cliff and the majority of his men are in the hills we can capture the place,” declared Frank, shrewdly.

“That’s bizness,” agreed Harmon, “but ye’re the boss. I kin see that ye’ve got a better head piece nor I have, Mister Reade.”

“We will not admit that,” said Frank, modestly, “but rather let us work together, Mr. Harmon.”

“All right, cap’en. I’m with ye.”

Further plans were elaborated, then as only a few hours yet intervened until dawn, it was decided to snatch a few brief hours of sleep.

With the early dawn all were astir. The Vigilants saddled their mustangs and all was soon ready for the start.

The Steam Man was an object of great wonder to the plainsmen.

“By Jinks!” exclaimed one of them, “the sight of that queer-lookin’ critter oughter scare the life out of any number of Injuns.”

“I think the Steam Man will aid us much in accomplishing our ends.” said Frank, modestly.

The start was made just after daybreak. The Vigilants rode alongside the Steam Man on their mustangs.

Of course Frank was compelled to go more slowly on this account.

But the Vigilantes knew the way to Ranch V. and this was, after all, the most important thing of all.

Frank considered it a great piece of luck in having fallen in with the Vigilantes.

He now understood exactly how matters stood all around.

It was near noon when a halt was called in a small basin near a lake of water.

Here camp was briefly made, and also at the same time an important discovery came to hand.

A broad trail made by a cavalcade of men and horses was discovered.

It pointed to the north.

Harmon examined it carefully and finally, with great exuberance, cried:

“It’s good luck, friends. That thar trail I believe was made by ther cowboys an’ it leads to ther hills. It’s over three days old, an’ they haven’t come back this way. I should think that the most of their men must be up there, in which case Ranch V. will be almost deserted. Cum on, boys, let’s capture ther hull place.”

With a cheer the Vigilants sprang to saddle.

Soon they were once more galloping ever the prairie.

Not two hours later, or in the middle of the afternoon, Harmon drew his horse alongside the Steam Man and pointing to the south cried:

“Look yonder, Mr. Reade. Do ye see them lines of high ground? Wall, jest this side ar ther Ranch V.”

A cheer went up from all.

“Begorra, it’s Ranch Ours it’ll be, if iver we get there,” declared Barney.

“Golly, won’t dis be a big ‘sprise party fo’ dat vilyun Cliff,” cried Pomp.

Frank Reade, Jr., held the Steam Man at a steady stride, and very soon the ranch came in sight.

It was truly a most extensive establishment.

The stockade and buildings covered acres of ground. A great herd of cattle were feeding on the open plains.

The main ranch itself was surrounded by a high stockade, which would resist most any ordinary attack with small arms.

As the Vigilants and the Steam Man came swiftly rushing down upon the place, a great commotion was seen to take place.

Men rushed out into the yards, horsemen went scurrying about, and down came the stockade gate.

But Harmon and his men rode boldly down to the gate, and began to assail it with axes.

While Frank Reade, Jr., kept the Steam Man on an elevation near, from which he, with Barney and Pomp, covered the work of invasion by a hot fire with their Winchesters.

The cowboys could not get upon the stockade to fire at the assailants for this reason.

Harmon’s men therefore worked with perfect immunity.

No more favorable time for an attack could have been chosen.

There were but few of the cowboys in the ranch, and these were picked off by the fire from the Steam Man as fast as they appeared on the stockade.

With lusty cries the vigilants chopped through the timbers of the gate.

In a remarkably brief time a hole was cut through and the gate raised.

The Steam Man rushed into the yard, and in less than ten minutes every cowboy in the place was a prisoner, and Ranch V. was captured.

Walter Barrows, the brave young stockman, was the first to enter the main ranch.

The instinct of a lover took him to the chamber in which Bessie Rodman was kept a prisoner.

He burst in the door and clasped the young girl in his arms.

That was a joyous meeting.

When they appeared in the yard the vigilants cheered wildly. It was a brilliant victory.

Ranch V. was captured.

The stronghold of the outlaw Cliff, the den of villainy and vice, was captured. It did not require much time for them to reach a decision as to what to do.

“Every building must be laid low!” cried Harmon. “Put the torch to every accursed timber.”

The cry was taken up and spread from lip to lip.

In haste torches were procured. Harmon himself lit the first, and was about to apply it to a building.

But he did not do so.

A thrilling incident stopped him. A loud cry went up.

“The cowboys! they are coming! To arms everybody! There comes Cliff at their head!”

Every eye was turned to the plain beyond the stockade.

There was no disputing the truth. Cliff and his gang returning from the hills had come just in time.

It would be folly now to burn the ranch.

Harmon, seeing the desperate exigency dropped the torch, and cried:

“To the stockade! It’s for life or death, boys. Fight to the last!”

But the command was not necessary. Already the brave Vigilants were at their posts.

Cliff with his small army of followers came on at a swinging gallop.

He could see that the ranch was in the possession of a foe.

This inflamed his wrath, and, with loud curses and yells, he rode down in the van of his followers.

Frank Reade, Jr., had taken in the situation at a glance.

He knew that it would be flatly impossible for the score of vigilants to hold those three hundred desperadoes long at bay.

It would mean the eventual massacre of every vigilant. This Frank wished to avoid.

The young inventor had induced Bessie Rodman to seek refuge in the wagon. Otherwise, she would certainly fall into the hands of the foe again.

Frank started the Steam Man ahead, and went down to the stockade. He made the vigilantes a hasty address.

“Nothing will be gained by holding this place,” he declared, with force. “You cannot do it. The odds are too great.”

“But we cannot surrender,” cried Harmon, “and how can we retreat?”

“Easily enough,” replied Frank, “there is a rear gate. Open it and cut out upon the prairie.”

“But they may overtake us?”

“It is your only hope. You’ll have to work lively, for they are trying to surround the stockade. I’ll cover your retreat easy enough.”

Harmon saw that Frank was right.

He did not pause to argue the point further. With quick commands he caused his men to fall back.

The stockade gate in the rear was opened just in time, and the vigilants rushed out upon the prairie.

They set out at a mad gallop for the distant hills.

The cowboys with mad cries followed. But they met with quite a serious obstacle in their pursuit.

The Steam Man kept exasperatingly between them and the vigilants.

From the rear loop-holes of the wagon Barney and Pomp kept up a steady fire with the Winchesters.

Nearly every shot emptied a saddle, and despite their superior numbers, the cowboys soon found it better and safer to keep well out of range.

The pursuit lasted for ten miles. Then the horses of both parties became fagged and they were compelled to halt.

But Harmon’s men, by dint of careful work, got their horses into the fastnesses of the hills. Here they felt more secure.

The Steam Man had well covered the retreat of the vigilants. But darkness was now coming on and a serious question presented itself to Frank Reade, Jr.

To remain where they were for the night would be to incur the risk of a midnight attack from the cowboys.

This might result seriously.

At least Frank was disposed to evade it.

He consulted with Harmon, and the result was an arrangement which it was believed would be better for all.

In the fastnesses of the hills Harmon felt sanguine of holding his own against the cowboys.

Therefore it was decided that the Steam Man should leave the vicinity and go far enough away over the prairie to make sure of safety for the night.

Accordingly Frank left the vicinity and sent the Man striding over the plain in the dusk of evening.

There was no visible indication that the cowboys intended to pursue.

They had apparently gone into camp not five miles distant.

Frank kept on with the Steam Man until twenty miles had been covered.

Then he came to a halt.

It seemed as if they must feel safe here. Accordingly, arrangements were made for passing the night.

A comfortable seat was arranged for Bessie Rodman and, much exhausted by the fatigue of her experiences, she quickly fell asleep.

But tears had wet her cheeks and trembled on her eyelashes. Frank had told her of her father’s death.

“Oh, I fear it is more than I can bear,” she declared, in agony of spirit. “My dear, dear father. Oh, if I were a man, how I would avenge him!”

“There are plenty to do that,” replied Frank, cheeringly. “The villain shall surely pay for his evil deeds.”

“I hope it may come to pass,” she said, sincerely.

Then she dropped off to sleep. But even as she slept, deadly peril hung over her young and beautiful head.