BARNEY AND POMP HAVE LIVELY TIMES.
But what of Barney and Pomp?
Left with the Steam Horse to await the return of Frank Reade, Jr., they
were not destined to long remain inactive.
In the shadows of the mountain wall it would have seemed that they were
safe.
But events close at hand were to disprove this assumption.
Neither were well pleased at having been left behind by Frank Reade, Jr.
“Begorra, I can’t see the sinse av Misther Frank’s taking that omadhoun
with him instid av wan av us,” declared Barney, petulantly.
“Dat am a fac’, I’ish,” agreed Pomp, “fo’ instance a cullud gen’man
like myself.”
“Bedad, av yez had gone wid him ye’d hav’ been wuss than the thrapper,”
blustered Barney, offended at what he considered Pomp’s egotism.
“Golly! if Marse Frank had done tuk yo’ he neber wud hab got back fo’
suah. You’re no good nohow.”
Left alone, the two faithful servitors were as certain to get to
wrangling and skylarking as could be.
It was natural for them to badger each other.
“Whurro! Don’t yez give me any av yer slang, naygur!” blustered Barney.
“I’ll sphile the face av yez!”
“Huh! Yo’ bettah jes’ spell able fust, Mister Mick.”
If there was one thing in the world that would make Barney furious, it
was the insinuation that he was Mick.
“Begorra, ye’ll take that back or I’ll have the heart av ye!” he
roared, making a rush at Pomp.
“Hi, hi! Luk out dar, I’ish. I’se a dangerous pusson!”
Then down went Pomp’s head negro fashion.
It caught Barney full in the stomach. The Hibernian went down in a heap.
For a moment he was wholly unable to find his breath.
Then furiously he scrambled to his feet, but Pomp had taken advantage
of the opportunity, and dodged out of the open door of the wagon.
Once outside he began to jeer Barney, to make him all the more furious.
In this he succeeded well.
With an imprecation the Celt started in pursuit.
In the excitement of the moment neither thought of the danger of
leaving the Steam Horse alone.
Just what was the cause of it they never knew, but somehow or other,
possibly the jar of Barney’s leap from the wagon, threw the throttle
open and the Steam Horse started away.
At the moment the two skylarkers were a dozen yards away.
The sight sobered them in a moment. It was a serious matter.
Away dashed the Steam Horse, with no controlling hand upon the rein.
“Golly, fo’ goodness!” yelled Pomp. “We’se done made fools ob ourselves
dis time, fo’ suah.”
“Begorra, catch him!” roared Barney. “Shure, phwat will be the ind av
this? Misther Frank will have the loife av us.”
Away they fled like frightened deer in pursuit.
But they might as well have tried to catch a cyclone.
Away went the Steam Horse at a mad pace into the darkness and was out
of sight.
It was an appalling moment.
Never in their roguish lives had Barney and Pomp received such a shock.
It was awful to think that it was all owing to careless fooling upon
their part.
“Och hone, it’s ruined we are,” wailed Barney. “Shure Misther Frank
niver will fergive us the day.”
“Golly! don’ I wish I had stayed abo’d de waggin!” wept Pomp.
On they ran in the darkness, stumbling over stones and obstructions.
But nothing could be seen ahead of the Steam Horse.
A thousand awful reflections came to the two servitors. They saw the
Steam Horse lying at the bottom of a precipice in a million fragments.
Or it might dash against the wall of a cliff and be shattered.
Again, if by any chance it should be stopped some of the counterfeiters
might get possession of it.
All these fears augmented a thousandfold flitted through the minds of
the excited and despairing pursuers.
“Golly! where ebber can dat Hoss hab gone to anyhow!” cried Pomp in
agony. “We’se done fo’ dis time, I’ish.”
“Bejabers, that’s thrue enough!”
On they ran wildly.
But the Steam Horse had gone from sight. All effort to catch up with it
was futile.
Thoroughly terrified the two servitors were obliged finally to halt.
They were completely exhausted.
They paused by a narrow stream or brook of saline water to rest.
Suddenly Pomp sprung up with a hoarse cry of terror.
“Golly, what am dat?” he gasped. “Jes so suah as yo’ am bo’n, I’ish,
dar am dem Injuns a’comin’ agin.”
The clatter of ponies’ hoofs was plainly heard, and they saw the forms
of a band of savages outlined against the sky as they rode along an
eminence near.
The effect of this upon Barney and Pomp was thrilling.
They stood for a moment so overcome with horror that they could not act.
The savages seemed coming directly toward them.
To fall into the hands of the Comanches would be the worst kind of a
fate, and our two friends had no desire in that direction.
Barney was the first to recover.
“Bejabers, we niver must shtay here!” he cried. “Shure it’s out av this
we must get.”
“Yo’ bet!” cried Pomp.
“Shure, phwere will we go?”
“Fo’sho’ I donno nuffin’ ’tall.”
But Barney, in despair, started down the course of the stream.
Pomp followed him.
It proved the very luckiest sort of a move for them.
The Steam Horse had taken this very course.
Just below it had run into a patch of chaparral, which was surrounded
with a dense growth of grass and trailing vines.
For fifty yards the Horse had cleaved its way through this growth.
Then it had come to a stop.
The clinging vines had clogged the axles and a swaying branch had
caught the throttle rein and shut off power, bringing the monster to a
dead stop.
Barney saw the lights of the Horse first and a yell escaped his lips.
“Whurroo! we’ve found him at lasht,” he roared. “Cum on, naygur. Run
fer yer loife.”
The savages were coming in hot pursuit.
The way the two jokers fled down that slope was a caution to race
horses.
Barney reached the wagon first.
He sprung in, seized an ax, and then springing out again began hacking
away the obstructions which held the Horse immovable.
The clinging vines yielded of course beneath such treatment.
Pomp cleared the axles and then both dodged into the wagon.
They were not a moment too soon.
Down came the savages howling like dervishes. In a twinkling they had
surrounded the Horse.
Arrows and bullets rattled against the lattice work of the wagon.
But Barney seized the throttle rein and turned the Horse about.
Pomp busied himself with his rifle at the loopholes and every shot he
fired was sure to count.
The Comanches before such a deadly fire fell back for a moment.
This gave Barney time to turn the Horse about.
The wagon was now free from the incumbrance of the trailing vines and
the Horse quickly galloped out of the chaparral.
The Comanches swarmed about now as thick as bees.
But Barney did not deviate in his course.
He pulled the throttle wide open and sent the Steam Horse ahead at a
powerful rate of speed.
Into the crowd of savages the machine plunged.
The shock drove them back. The light ponies were thrown aside and their
riders unceremoniously tossed.
There was not weight enough to resist the progress of the Steam Horse.
With baffled yells the savages broke ranks and the Horse went through
like a thunderbolt.
It was so dark that Barney was at a loss to know just what course to
pursue.
But he went straight ahead as it looked to be the safest course. The
savages, like a pack of wolves, came yelling on behind.
It was easy for the Steam Horse, however, to keep ahead of them.
If it had been daylight Barney could have amused himself giving the
savages a wild chase.
But it was so exceedingly dark that he dared not go too fast.
Pomp kept up his destructive fire just the same, and the savages
dropped at every shot.
On and on in the night ran the Steam Horse.
Fortunately thus far they had encountered no obstacle.
The course had been perfectly smooth, with scarcely a pebble to jar
them.
But Barney could not hope for this to last.
It seemed as if they had covered several miles when a startling thing
happened.
Suddenly lights gleamed just ahead. As well as Barney could determine
they were torches.
A chill struck the brave Celt.
What did it mean?
Were there more of the foe in front? If so, they were literally hemmed
in.
This would mean a serious matter, and the Celt’s grip tightened on the
handle of the brake.
“Bejabers, I wondher phwativer it is?” he muttered.
Certainly there was a band of men in front of them.
The glare of torches could be seen, and the dim outlines of horses and
men in the gloom.
Barney saw no way to turn out.
To come to a stop would have been to allow the Comanches to descend
upon the Horse.
What was to be done?
There seemed no other way but to forge straight ahead, and take chances
of breaking through the line of the new foe.
But suddenly a great light flashed up, which made for some seconds the
whole vicinity as plain as day.
It was a signal light, burned by those in front, and Barney saw to his
amazement and delight the outlines of a large body of soldiers.
A great cry of joy and triumph went up from the Celt’s lips.
“Och hone, an’ if it ain’t sogers they be!” he cried. “Shure, the luck
is wid us an’ we’re safe the while!”
“Golly! yo’ don’ mean it,” cried Pomp, “den dot am a berry lucky fing.
Dem sogers can jes’ help Marse Frank fo’ to cotch dem countingfitters.”
“Yez are right!” cried Barney.
Then he closed the throttle and applied the brake.
The Steam Horse quickly came to a halt. The result was thrilling.
The Comanches had not yet seen the soldiers and came about the Steam
Horse in a legion.
But now up the plain came the stentorian order:
“Attention battalion! Draw sabre! double-quick, forward! Charge!”
The clatter of hoofs, the jingling of accouterments and the wild cheer
of the soldiers rose upon the air.
Forward rode the troop in headlong fashion and led by a man with as
commanding a figure as Murat.
The flash of their sabres could be seen in the torches’ light.
The savages saw them and a panic was created.
At first they seemed inclined to stand their ground.
But their experience with Uncle Sam’s troops had heretofore been of the
most expensive sort.
So they did not deem it best to risk an encounter.
There was a series of baffled yells, a hustling rush, and away they
went into the darkness and out of sight.
But the cavalry came on and in a moment surrounded the Steam Horse.
The tall Murat like captain rode forward, and touching the flat of his
sword to the visor of his cap, asked:
“Who are you? Friend or foe?”
“Well, sor,” replied Barney, readily, “shure, we’re not an inemy.”
“No? Well, what in thunder kind of a rig do you call that?”
“Can’t ye see fer yersilf?” cried Barney, a little out of patience.
“It looks like a horse made of iron.”
“Shure, an’ that’s phwat it is, but I’d advise ye not to do it any
harm.”
“Fear not,” cried the tall officer. “I am Captain Elmo, of Fort
Forty-Five. You don’t mean to say that that iron horse can travel of
itself?”
“Shure it’s a steam horse!” replied Barney. “Did yez niver hear of it
afore?”
“No, never!” was the reply. “But who are you?”
“I’m Barney O’Shea!”
“Do you own that Steam Horse?”
“No, sor. It’s the property av Misther Frank Reade, Jr.”
“Ah, I see it now!” cried Captain Elmo. “I have heard of Frank Reade,
Jr. Did he not travel out here with a Steam Man once?”
“That he did, sor!”
“Then I understand it all. Then you two chaps are Barney and Pomp, eh?
Well, I’m glad to see you.”
“The same, sor!”
“But where is your master, Mr. Frank Reade. Jr.?”
“Shure, sor, him an’ a thrapper chap named Beaver Bill, they have gone
up into ther Death Valley Pass, sor, lookin’ fer Bert Mason, sor. Yez
know him?”
“Bert Mason!” cried Captain Elmo. “Why he is the chap I have been sent
up here to find.”
“Mither Mary presarve us, an’ phat for, sor, do yez want him?”
“He is said to be the leader of a band of counterfeiters who are
supposed to have headquarters somewheres about here.”
“Shure, sor, it’s glad I am to hear av that,” cried Barney. “An’ it’s
mesilf as kin tell yez, just where to foind yure man?”
“Where?”
“Shure, sor, up in the Death Pass.”
“Are you sure of that?”
“I was well informed, sor!”
“Enough!” cried the captain, “that is then our objective point.”
“All right, sor! Are yez goin’ there right away?” asked Barney.
“At once!”
“Shure, sor, don’t yez want the sarvices av ther Stheam Horse?”
“Why certainly!”
“Ye’re welcome quite!”
“Very well. Fall into line with us.”
Barney was not loath to do this. The cavalcade set out at once for
Death Valley, and the Steam Horse and Barney and Pomp followed.
The gray light of dawn was just appearing in the east. The events of
the night were rapidly drawing to a close. But fresh scenes were at
hand.