Transcriber’s Notes
Obvious typographical errors have been silently corrected. Variations
in hyphenation have been standardised but all other spelling and
punctuation remains unchanged.
Italics are represented thus _italic_.
FRANK READE, JR., IN THE GREAT AMERICAN DESERT.
The subscription Price of the FRANK READE LIBRARY by the year is $2.50;
$1.25 per six months, post-paid. Address FRANK TOUSEY, PUBLISHER,
34 and 36 North Moore Street. Box 2730.
FRANK READE, JR.,
With His New Steam Horse in the Great American Desert;
OR,
THE SANDY TRAIL OF DEATH.
By “NONAME,”
Author of “Frank Reade, Jr., With His New Steam Horse Among the Cowboys;
or, The League of the Plains,” etc.
CHAPTER I.
THE CASE OF BENJAMIN ASTLEY.
When it became noised about that Frank Reade, Jr., the distinguished
inventor, was about to make a trip to the far West with his wonderful
Steam Horse, public interest became greatly excited.
For those of my readers who may never have read any of the accounts
of his wonderful adventures, I will state that Frank Reade, Jr.,
was a wonderful inventor of marvelous things; that his father was a
famous inventor before him, and that Frank, Jr., took to the trade as
naturally as a duck does to water.
Years ago, Frank Reade, Sr., had founded the town of Readestown, U. S.
A.
And there had erected large machine shops, to which the younger Reade
greatly added in later days.
The new Steam Man, invented by Frank Reade, Jr., had made a great
furore.
But apropos of this came the New Steam Horse, and for a marvel of
ingenuity and mechanical skill, it simply could not be surpassed.
For the benefit of certain of my readers, I will give a brief
description of the New Steam Horse; a better idea of which, however,
can be gathered from a study of the artist’s picture upon the front
page of this book.
Then we will proceed to the exciting incidents of this story, which
will describe a most exciting trip into a strange region.
The Steam Horse was the pattern of an ordinary equine done in steel.
The body was made of steel plates, ingeniously fastened with various
joints and bosses.
It is easy enough to make the likeness of a horse thus, but to make it
mechanical, to gallop and display other evidences of life, is by no
means so easy.
Frank Reade, Jr., realized this, but he was not one to be baffled in a
given undertaking.
He was some while in studying out the problem.
But it came at last.
Of course, to go with the Horse there must be a wagon.
But first Frank designed the mechanism of the Horse.
In the plan which he drew, he located the furnace in the chest of the
Horse, with a door to open so that coal could be thrown in.
The main body of the Horse contained the boiler. It was an easy matter
thus to get up steam.
Upon the saddle was placed the steam gauge and indicator. Between the
Horse’s ears was placed the whistle.
The nostrils contained the escape valve, and the lower jaw of the Horse
connected with the throttle and whistle valves, so that pressure upon a
long pair of reins would regulate the speed of the Horse.
The most difficult matter, however, was the delicate armatures and
driving rods of the legs.
The cylinders were placed upon the shafts of the wagon.
These propelled the driving rods, which in turn worked heavy armatures,
which caused the Horse’s legs to take a long and quick stride.
The hind legs were worked in the same manner by means of driving rods
connected with the armature of the forward legs.
It was astonishing to note with what marvelous rapidity the Steam Horse
would pick up its feet and gallop.
Steel spikes upon his feet enabled him to go all the faster.
We have imperfectly described the Horse; now, let us take a look at the
wagon.
In this the travelers were to ride, and it was necessary that it should
be safe and strong.
It was made with four strong iron wheels with grooved tires of rubber,
so that the roughest ground could be traveled over.
The body of the wagon was of thinly rolled but tough steel.
The interior was quite spacious and vigorously divided up into various
uses.
A coal bunker was provided upon the sides of the wagon.
Over these were cushioned seats, easily made into sleeping bunks.
Forward by the high dasher was a compartment for the storing of
provisions and any necessary stores.
But the most wonderful of all was the canopy or top which covered the
wagon.
This was made of thin but bullet-proof plates of steel arranged like
a window-lattice, so that by touching a spring the four sides would
promptly roll up, leaving the wagon open on all sides.
When the lattice work was down loopholes were provided in it by means
of which shots could be fired at an attacking foe.
Altogether the new Steam Horse was a wonderful invention and quite a
safe equipage to travel across the plains of the wild West with.
At least Frank Reade, Jr., thought so, and did not hesitate to risk the
trip.
His only traveling companions upon his famous trips were two faithful
servants, a jolly Irishman known as Barney O’Shea, and a comical moke
of a negro called Pomp.
Barney and Pomp were unique characters to a certainty.
While the best of friends in reality, they were constantly engaged in
badgering and teasing each other.
One was as well gifted in this direction as the other, so they
generally came out about even.
The object of Frank Reade, Jr.’s proposed trip to the West was a
thrilling one.
His attention had one day been claimed by a singular statement in a
newspaper.
The statement read thus:
“The Mystery of a Marked Bullet.”
“A strange incident for which a man is now languishing in Silver City
jail awaiting the execution of a sentence of death for murder.
“Six months ago a party of prospectors were coming over the Divide by
a rocky foot trail.
“There were twelve in the party, and they were all miners. Some had
had fair luck, and others were going home empty-handed.
“Suddenly one of them espied what he believed was a huge buffalo
grazing in the canyon far below.
“At once the question of marksmanship came up. There were two expert
shots in the party, Bert Mason and Sid Powell.
“A wager was made as to which one could hit the buffalo. It was
arranged that both should shoot at the same time, using marked bullets.
“The bullet nearest the buffalo’s heart should belong to the winner.
“The trick was quickly made, the stakes put up, and both men fired.
“The supposed buffalo leaped in the air with a wild yell of pain and
fell to the ground, while a mule cantered away up the canyon.
“The object had not been a buffalo, but a white man with a fur coat on
riding slowly along on a mule.
“Of course Mason and Powell looked at each other with horror.
“‘Great beavers, Sid!’ gasped Mason, ‘we’ve killed a man!’
“‘I swan that’s so!’ agreed Bert Mason, in horror. ‘What’ll we do?’
“Of course there was nothing else to do but to climb down and see if
the victim was really dead.
“The two horrified prospectors did so.
“They found that the man was dead to a certainty. One bullet had
lodged in his brain and the other in his shoulder.
“The bullet in the brain of course was the fatal one, and that bore
Bert Mason’s mark.
“It looked as if he was the real murderer, if the affair could be
called murder. What made the matter worse, however, was the fact that
the man was a prominent citizen of Silver City.
“Neither Mason nor Powell dared to go to Silver City after that.
“Both cut sticks and went into the woods to hide. Sid Powell was
killed by Indians, but Bert Mason became a road agent.
“He was hunted for years for the murder of Clem Johnson. Suddenly he
disappeared and was seen no more in those parts.
“But six months ago a man was arrested in Silver City who answered his
description to a jot, and who went by the name of Benjamin Astley.
“He was horrified when accused of being identical with Mason. He was
at the altar with a happy bride-elect when arrested. The shock nearly
killed the bride, who fainted upon the spot.
“Astley is in a terrible state of mind. He has detectives looking for
the real Bert Mason. What makes the case look worse for Astley was the
fact that one of the marked bullets was found upon him, and it tallied
with the one found in Clem Johnson’s skull.
“Astley has been convicted as the murderer and will doubtless hang.
Yet the evidence would look to be purely circumstantial, and an
innocent man may suffer for the crime.”
Frank Reade, Jr., had become deeply interested in the complex case.
“That man is innocent!” he declared, with firm conviction. “It is too
bad to hang him upon such evidence.”
“Bejabers, I believe yez are roight, sor!” agreed Barney O’Shea.
“I done fink dat man am de victim ob cirkumstances!” declared Pomp,
sagely.
“The real murderer Mason is no doubt at large now,” cried Frank. “I
declare he ought to be found.”
The more Frank thought of the matter the better satisfied he became
that the ends of justice were being defeated.
“That is just the hot-headed way they do things in the West,” he
declared. “Upon my word it is awful.”
Finally a resolution seized Frank.
One morning he came down to the shop and gave orders to have the Steam
Horse made ready for a trip.
Of course the workmen set about it without asking questions.
But the report got abroad and many and various were the surmises.
Finally one of the curious ones ventured to approach Frank point blank.
“Where are you going this time, Mr. Reade? Not to the North Pole?”
“No,” replied Frank, crisply. “I am going West to find Bert Mason the
true murderer of Clem Johnson. If it is in my power, I mean to clear up
the mystery and set this unfortunate Benjamin Astley right once more. I
shall hope for success.”