The Project Gutenberg eBook of FRANK READE, JR., WITH HIS NEW STEAM MAN IN MEXICO, by “Noname,”.

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FRANK READE, JR., WITH HIS NEW STEAM MAN IN MEXICO;
OR, HOT WORK AMONG THE GREASERS.

Author of “Frank Reade, Jr., With His New Steam Man in Texas; or, Chasing the Train Robbers,” etc., etc.

Frank Reade, Jr., the inventor of many wonderful machines and whose fame was world wide, sat in his study one day in September looking over a heap of mail matter which the servant had just brought in.

He was a handsome dark complexioned young man with a distingue air and that individuality of appearance which stamps the man of genius.

Foremost among Frank Reade, Jr.’s inventions was the New Steam Man, a machine of truly wonderful character.

We will not attempt a description of the Steam Man for certain good reasons until later; first let us give our attention for the moment to the young inventor.

Frank Reade, Jr., was naturally the foremost man in Readestown, a respectable sized and thriving town, founded by and named after the Reades.

Here they had built the wonderful machine shops for the construction of their own machines.

Money was not a scarcity with the Reades nor was it ever likely to be, with their superlative genius to make it.

Frank opened one letter after another, hastily read them and placed those on a file which he meant to answer.

Some of them were of importance, some were not, but he encountered none which claimed his attention greatly for some while.

Then a letter lay before him, superscribed in a foreign style, and bearing the stamp and postmark of Mexico.

The letter was written in Spanish, but Frank knew the language well, so he read it easily.

“Harvey Montaine!” repeated Frank. “Indeed, he is a dear friend of mine.”

“This gentleman has made many friends here in Laredo. Both the Spanish people and the natives like him for his courtly manners and his generous heart.

“But his efforts to open up the Los Pueblos claim have been attended with ill-fortune. It seems that his first expedition was set upon by bandits who infest the region, and who are under the command of Miguel Costello, a noted desperado.

“His men were slaughtered, and he escaped himself by a narrow chance. But Senor Montaine is a gentleman of pluck, and he once more began to plan an excursion to Los Pueblos, when one morning he disappeared.

“From that day to this he has never been seen. A notice has been posted in Laredo, signed by Costello calling for a reward of ten thousand dollars, or Montaine will be slain.

“This reward, or ransom money, was quickly raised here among Senor Montaine’s friends, but the bandit promptly raised the figures to fifty thousand.

“This money cannot be raised, nor is it believed that Costello would release his prisoner for it.

“It is believed by many that this is a subterfuge employed by the bandit to cover his purpose of working the Los Pueblos claim himself.

“It is rumored that he has a large gang of men at work at the mine, and that they are sinking a shaft.

“It may be readily understood that this is a dishonest trick of the villain’s, and the sense of justice of every good man must be aroused. Meanwhile, a deserter front Miguel’s band brings us the story, also a request from Montaine, who begs us to write you to come to his relief with your New Steam Man. We are obeying the dictates of Senor Montaine in writing this letter.

“That you may best follow your own conclusion in granting your friend’s request, we have no doubt that you will appreciate fully his extreme peril.

“This is the case, and in laying it before you, dear senor, we believe that we are but doing our duty as Christian gentlemen. Your answer and decision we await with some impatience and much hope. I have the honor, senor, to faithfully subscribe myself yours,

“ Jose Ravello .

“Hotel San Juan, Laredo, Mexico.”

There was a strange excited light in his fine eyes, and he exclaimed in a musical, but tense voice:

“Poor Montaine! He is one of my best friends. So he is in trouble, eh? Well, I would be inhuman indeed not to respond to his appeal.”

As he left the study he met a colored man in the hall. He was a fat, jolly little darky, and as black as the ace of spades.

Here they met a jolly-looking Irishman, whose twinkling eyes and broad mug stamped him a genuine son of the Green Isle.

They had been in the employ of his father before him, and Frank would never have thought of going upon a trip without them.

Their services were invaluable. Barney being a first-class engineer and steel workman, and Pomp was a fine cook.

Passing through the yard which was filled with workmen, Frank led the way into a private office.

It was here that the plans of all his wonderful machines were draughted in secret.

Frank quickly placed his finger upon Laredo. Then he traversed the interior of Mexico to the Los Pueblos Mountains.

“That is it,” he said, theoretically. “It is a long trip, but it can be done.”

“Barney,” he asked, sharply, “has that new gauge been put upon the Steam Man?”

They listened with the deepest interest, and when Frank finished Barney cried eagerly:

“Golly, I jes’ hopes yo’ will, Marse Frank. Dis chile am in it fo’ suah.”

“Of course my sympathies for Montaine are strong,” said Frank; “he is an old and very dear friend of mine.”

This was a large, high-roofed room. In its center stood the wonderful invention which had made the name of Frank Reade, Jr., famous the world over.

Picture a giant man made of iron plates holding the shafts of a wagon in his hands.

There were driving rods down the legs, showing that the Man’s motive power was steam.

The body of the man made the furnace, and upon its back was the steam chest as well as gauge and indicator.

The tall hat was the smoke-stack, and in the Man’s mouth was the whistle. A headlight was placed in the forehead.

The reservoirs of water were in the Man’s legs and arms, so adjusted that a continual circulation was kept up with the water in the boiler.

Reins extended from the throttle and whistle valves in the Man’s mouth to the dasher of the wagon, and it was by these that the iron monster was guided and driven with the greatest of ease.

The wagon contained bunkers for coal, also compartments for the safe storage of provisions and ammunition.

In this netting there were loopholes through which rifles could be fired at an enemy.

A door in the rear of the wagon furnished means of entrance and exit. Once inside this steel cage the inmates were safe from any sort of a missile but a cannon ball.

The Steam Man was certainly a wonderful invention. The four-wheeled wagon with its grooved tires could be hauled across level ground by him faster than the ordinary train of cars.

The Man’s stride was something tremendous. Large sums had been offered Frank for the secret of his invention.

The Man was all in perfect order and ready for a trip. The famous inventor was much pleased with this realization.

“Well, Barney,” he said, briskly, “you may see to it that the wagon is provided with necessary stores. Pomp, you may look after the arms and ammunition and have everything in readiness at the earliest possible moment. Do you understand?”

Here at the door he was met by his wife. Mrs. Reade was a very beautiful and intelligent woman, a fit partner for a man of genius.

“Well, Frank!” she said, with a smile. “I have a premonition that you are up to some new scheme. Am I not right?”

“You must have no fears. I am quite able to take care of myself. Yes, it is another trip.”

Mrs. Reade did not speak upon the subject further, and like the true wife that she was did not attempt to gainsay her husband’s plans.

Woman-like, though, she dreaded his going upon these expeditions into regions of unexplored wilderness where danger was rife.

This message was sent over the wires with all dispatch. The report spread that the Steam Man was to go upon a tour to Mexico.

The exploits of the young inventor and his wonderful Steam Man always claimed widespread attention.

Letters of congratulation, of inquiry, and of request began to pour in. But Frank had little time to give them heed.

But on the fourth day after receiving the letter of Senor Ravello the Steam Man, packed securely in sections, was safely placed aboard a special train.

Nothing of note occurred during the trip to the Mexican frontier. A few days later after having crossed half of the continent the Rio Grande river was crossed, and the Steam Man and our voyagers were in Mexico.

Immediately upon alighting from the train Frank was met by a tall, fine-looking gentleman.

It was an early hour in the morning, and Barney and Pomp went at once to work to take the Man from the cars.

It was unloaded in sections, and then with the aid of half a dozen skilled workmen whom Frank had brought along, it was put together.

Senor Ravello conversed with Frank and watched with interest the reconstruction of the Steam Man.

“I sent word to Costello by a special messenger, asking him what ransom he would take.”

“I have, therefore, arrived at the conclusion perforce that he is not desirous of accepting a ransom. His game is to hold Montaine a prisoner while he works the rich Los Pueblos claim.”

“Well,” said Frank, drawing a deep breath, “we will try and spoil that little game for him.”

Then the wonderful invention was revealed in its perfection to the admiring crowd of spectators.

They burst into cheers of approval as they realized its wonderful perfection of outline and detail.

But the climax was reached when Barney started the fire in the furnace and quickly got up steam.

Barney was at the dasher and Pomp was busying himself stowing away things in the bunkers.

The crowd yelled itself hoarse, the Steam Man whistled, and then was away with ponderous tread out of the town.

Out into the country the voyagers went. Fertile farms and gardens were upon all sides for a number of miles.

Then the confines of civilization were reached and the unexplored wilds opened up before them.

Mexican towns were passed and ranches without number. Rancheros and peons, hunters and cowboys, greasers and half-breeds, all viewed the Steam Man with great wonderment, and some of the ignorant natives with superstition.

But the voyagers were not molested until one evening, after crossing an arid plain, the startling discovery was made that the Steam Man’s boilers were empty.

But two miles distant in the verge of a clump of timber the low roof of an adobe ranch was seen.

It was not known what sort of people lived there, nor with what sort of a reception they might meet.

But it was necessary to have water, and something desperate had got to be done at once.

“There must be water there,” declared Frank. “We will go over there and see at any rate.”

As they approached it, they saw half a score of nondescript men lounging about the place.

They were in the main half-breeds and greasers, and all of a decidedly villainous type. [Pg 4]

The Steam Man drew up in the ranch yard. The effect upon the motley crew was most surprising.

Of course this was the first time they had ever gazed upon anything like the Steam Man.

Wonderment and interest were depicted upon their brutish faces as they advanced.

Pomp regarded them askance, and taking a sweeping survey of the place ventured to say:

“Begorra, I’m wid yez, naygur!” cried Barney. “Av I’m not mishtaken thim omadhouns will be no frinds to us.”

He busied himself with adjusting the brake, and while thus engaged the greasers crowded about the Steam Man.

“Si, senor! Pray dismount and enter. I have some wine which will suit your taste.”

The fellow was a tall, dark-complexioned chap, with long black mustache and eyes of keenest black.

But he knew well that in his present position he was much at the mercy of the greasers.

The ranch might be a respectable place and, at any rate, if he desired to secure any of the water, Frank knew that he must work his cards diplomatically.

So he decided to affect friendship with the greasers, and trust to fortune to accomplish the rest.

“Your offer I will gladly accept,” said Frank, with a flourish. “Your excellent wine already warms my heart.”

“We are always glad to welcome strangers,” said the ranchero, with a peculiar smile, “but this is the first time we have ever seen a locomotive in the shape of a man, and able to run without a track.”

“Indeed!” replied Frank. “Allow me, then, to explain to you the mechanism of the New Steam Man.”

With this, Frank proceeded to illustrate to the greasers the working of the famous invention.

When Frank had concluded, they began a queer sort of jargon, and kept it up in an excited manner.

Frank could not very well understand it, as it was a dialect of the Spanish tongue.

But the ranchero seized Frank’s arm now, and drew him toward the adobe building. The young inventor could not refuse.

“You are my guest, senor,” declared the ranchero. “I shall bewitch you with my wine. There is not better in the Laredo vineyards.”

“Indeed, I am in your debt very deeply, senor,” replied Frank, “but pardon me, but is not that good water in yonder spring?”

“Si, senor, with pleasure,” replied the polite ranchero; “take all that you would care to of it.”

In a few moments they had the hose out and were pumping the water with all haste into the Steam Man’s boilers.

In the interior it was scarcely more inviting than outside, but the hospitable ranchero offered Frank a seat.

It was a small chair near a window, through which Frank could easily see what was going on in the yard.

“Pardon, senor!” said the ranchero, affably, “but may we not exchange names? I am Don Juan de Casnova.”

Frank was sure that the other gave a queer start and changed color a bit. But if so he was quickly recovered.

Then from a closet near the ranchero produced a quaint old flagon and some silver drinking mugs.

“This is better than pulque, senor,” declared Don Casnova with a smile. “Drink to success.”

“Pardon my curiosity, senor,” he said, politely, “but it is a natural question to ask the mission of one traveling across the country as you are. Is it a secret?”

“I have heard of gold about Los Pueblos, but I have heretofore regarded it as a myth.”

There was a question uppermost in his mind which he desired strongly to ask the other.

Finally, after the conversation had turned upon different topics, he ventured to say:

“Pardon me, senor, but is there in these parts a man named Miguel Costello?”

An odd, startled light came into his eyes. But he evinced trepidation only a moment.

It was a direct question, but Frank believed it the best under the circumstances. The ranchero idly pulled at his cheroot, and gazing at Frank languidly through half-shut eyes, replied:

“Well, senor, I think it not good taste to speak disparagingly of a man’s character. Yet Miguel is so well known that it cannot hurt to tell the truth that he is a bad man.”

“In fact, he is an outlaw, and if he had his just deserts would be hung for many a dark crime.”

“Ah!” said Frank, quietly; “perhaps then you can tell me of the unfortunate American, Harvey Montaine, who it is said has fallen into his clutches?”

“Yes,” replied Frank, “he is a man of honor and of courage. Then the report is true that he was robbed of his claim by Costello?”

“I believe that he and Costello had an argument about a claim,”replied Casnova, quietly; “to which it properly belonged I am not able to say.”

“I know that Montaine claimed to own a rich gold claim hereabouts,” he declared, positively. “I have no reason to doubt his words.”

“By no means, senor,” replied Casnova, politely, “but you neglect the wine.”

“As fine as I ever tasted,” declared Frank; “but I will not drink again.”

De Casnova sat the mug down quietly. There was a queer gleam in his dark eyes as he said:

“Perhaps, senor, I can help you to rescue this Montaine from the villain, Costello. In fact, I have no doubt that I can.”

“Ah!” exclaimed the Mexican, lifting his eyebrows. “I see you will not trust me. But rest assured, Senor Reade, that Juan de Casnova is an honorable man.”

He felt in some vague way that he was in a complicated position and wished to extricate himself.

He saw through the windows that Pomp and Barney had filled the Steam Man’s boilers and were getting up steam.

For some reason he felt a strong distrust of Casnova. He realized that he had committed an error in speaking of Montaine or of the Mexican bandit.

Frank knew enough of Mexicans to be aware of the fact that they were exceedingly treacherous and hung together famously.

For aught he knew Casnova was hand in glove with the bandit, and feeling that this was possible Frank’s sensations can well be imagined.

Indeed, he had already begun to count the chances of reaching the Steam Man alive in case he should make a break.

“You will stop some days with us, Senor Reade,” said the ranchero, smoothly. “You will find that a Mexican knows something of the art of entertaining.” [Pg 5]

“I am well aware of that now,” replied Frank. “I will consult with my companions, and if they-—-”

“Senor need not do that,” he exclaimed; “they are but peons. The senor is assuredly his own master.”

“Yes,” replied Frank, truthfully. “Yet I always confer with my two servitors. I will give you an answer.”

“Ah, too much haste,” he declared, in his oily way. “Senor Reade, you know not the ways of these parts.”

“I shall learn, perhaps,” said Frank, dryly, taking a stride toward the door.

But before he could cross it the ranchero had seized a small whistle from his girdle and blew it.

In the flash of a second Frank realized his peril. He made action in that same brief bit of time.

Quick as lightning he cleared the threshold and started across the yard for the Steam Man.

The greasers were all light men, and they had not reached Frank until he was within ten yards of the Steam Man.

Barney now with his improvised shillelagh descended upon the Mexicans like a thunderbolt.

“Take that, an’ that, ye murtherin’ crew!” yelled Barney, excitedly; “bejabers, if it’s a ruction yez want, here’s one fer yez.”

There were others coming to their assistance. But before they could come up the struggle was over.

Casnova furiously rushed out into the ranch yard, urging his men on. A swarm of the greasers came for the Steam Man.

Out of the ranch yard the Man sped, but the greasers all sprang upon their horses and gave pursuit.

Out upon the plain went the Steam Man, pursued by the yelling horde of greasers.

Ordinarily the Man would have distanced them, but there was but little steam up, and progress was slow.

As it was, the greasers gained a trifle, and one of them sent his lasso coiling like a serpent through the air.

The Mexican who had the temerity to attempt lassooing the Steam Man had little idea of the enormity of his task.

The lariat, thrown with great precision, settled down accurately over the Man’s head.

At the moment, the Steam Man was going a thirty miles per hour gait. The effect was thrilling.

The greaser fancied that he could bring the Steam Man’s career to an end, even as he would that of a wild steer.

The Steam Man kept straight on. The Mexican threw his horse upon its haunches, and the next moment expected to see the Steam Man topple over.

The lariat tightened like a whip-cord. The little mustang’s forefeet were braced in the soft soil of the prairie.

The dead weight of the horse was pulled twenty-five feet, when the lariat snapped like a bit of thread.

“Golly, but dat was jus’ too funny fo’ anyfing!” cried Pomp, hilariously. “Jes’ fink ob dat fool ob a greaser who ’spected he could pull de Steam Man over.”

It was certainly a narrow escape, and all had very good reasons to congratulate themselves on it.

“I believe those are the Los Pueblos Mountains!” declared Frank, positively.

To the southward there extended a literal desert, seemingly as wild as the famed Steppes of Tartary.

Every few steps the bones of some dead animal and occasionally a man were encountered.

It was in fact a plain of death. No living thing adorned it, and it was probably in time of great drought that many travelers had lost their lives here.

Then a river was encountered, which was fortunately not so deep but that it could be easily waded.

Once on the other side the Steam Man made its way through a rocky pass and then a surprise was accorded the travelers.

Down through the pass there came the rumble of wheels and the heavy cracking of a whip.

The driver, a burly fellow, with his belt filled with pistols, pulled up the horses with a volley of oaths.

“Thunder an’ blazes!” he yelled. “Who in perdition are ye? What kind of a rig d’yer call that?” The Jehu sat on his box staring at the Steam Man like one out of his senses.

Upon the box was a miner in red shirt and top boots, and upon the top of the coach were half a dozen more.

Within the coach were a number of Mexicans, a flashily dressed sport and a type of the genus gambler.

“A stage line!” exclaimed Frank, in amazement. “And in this out of the way place. Who’d have dreamed it?” “Bejabers, we must be comin’ to some koind of a settlemint,” cried Barney.

The pass was barely wide enough at this point to let the coach and the Steam Man pass.

But the coach did not offer to move, and Frank saw the passengers pulling their revolvers.

“Oh, ye ain’t, eh?” thundered the burly Jehu. “Well, we’re powerful glad to hear that. But whar in thunder did ye git that bullgine, anyhow?”

“Instead of a steam ingine!” cried one of the sports, “ye see, gentlemen, we now have a Steam Man.”

Frank politely showed them the workings of the invention, and then, with some surprise, said:

“But how do we happen to find an American stage and American miners this side of the line?”

“That’s all right—there’s a nice little claim over here that we’ve been up to see. We are from Saint’s Repose, jest over the line into the States. In course this is Mexican land, but if ther greasers don’t get onto us, we’ll git some of that Mexican gold over into the United States afore many days, you bet!”

“Pshaw!” he exclaimed. “If I had known that I would have traveled all the way on United States territory.”

“Cert, stranger,” was the reply, when Frank informed them of his course, “but then, for all that, ye came direct enough. The line bends in here, ye know, and ye’ve come along a north-westerly course.”

“So it seems!” agreed Frank, “but are not these the Los Pueblos Mountains?”

“Cert.” “Well, how is it that you do not run across Miguel Costello and his gang?”

“Well, we have heerd tell of that chap a good deal. He hain’t ever attacked us, though we’ve been lookin’ for a scrimmage with him off an’ on.”

“Indeed!” exclaimed Frank, in amazement. “I think it very singular then, for I understand that he is the terror of this region.”

“An’ so he is, stranger. But we ain’t goin’ to be bluffed out of our claim for a stack of greasers as high as Shasta.”

“In course, but now ye’ve axed questions, stranger, s’posin’ we take our turn. I’m Sam Sharp, or better known as Silver Sam. Who in thunder are you?”

Frank was not a little amused at being addressed in this bluff manner, but he quietly responded:

“That’s Bill Guernsey, our driver,” he said, referring to the Jehu; “this gent hyar,” indicating a bloated gambler-looking man with a prodigious diamond on his shirt front, “is Mister Jake Bolton; we call him Diamond Jake fer short. This gent,” indicating a tall, slender youth with a sleepy air, “is Mister Chris Blume, an’ he’s our civil an’ minin’ engineer. We’re goin’ to drive a shaft up there a mile or more an’ he’s goin’ to do the biz for us.”

“The same, stranger,” said Diamond Jake, advancing and shaking Frank’s hand.

Silver Sam, as the sport was called, did not trouble to introduce the laborers, as the red-shirted men might have been called.

“Well, friend,” said Silver Sam, after the introduction was over, “what’s yer biz in these parts, might I ax?”

“Certainly,” replied Frank, “and perhaps you can give me some information to aid me?”

“Mebbe we can, stranger. We’ll be glad to do it if we can.” “Did you ever hear of a man about here called Harvey Montaine?”

“You can bet we have, stranger, and he’s a white man, too.” “Harvey is a gentleman,” said Frank.

“You bet he is. He was well liked in Saint’s Repose.” “Where is he now?”

“Look here, stranger,” he said, earnestly, “are you lookin’ for Harvey?”

“Wall, I’m afraid ye’ll never be able to rescue him. He’s in the grip of that devil Costello.”

“It’s true enough. You see, Costello pounced down on him when he was opening up his claim and massacred all his men. They may have killed Harvey, too, but Costello keeps advertisin’ for a ransom.”

“I’m thinking he ain’ after that,” said Silver Sam, with conviction, “no more nor you an’ I are. It’s my ’pinyun he’s got sick of being road agent and thinks there’s a princely fortune in that mine.”

“Well,” said Frank, slowly and with great determination, “I don’t mind telling you, friends, that I am in this region to spoil his game and to rescue Harvey Montaine. I mean to do it—or die!”

“We glory in your pluck, stranger,” cried Silver Sam, warmly. “We hope ye’ll succeed an’ we’ll help ye all we can.”

“One thing is sure. If Miguel Costello troubles us, we’ll make it warm for him. We don’t mean to give up our claim. But as he is twenty miles from here on another spur of the mountain-—-” Silver Sam did not finish his speech. A thrilling thing happened at that moment.

There was a wild, blood-curdling laugh far up the gorge, and the next moment the crack of rifles smote upon the air.

“All aboard!” yelled Bill Guernsey, the stage driver. “Run fer yer lives, lads. There’s no show fer us agin that pack of imps.” There was no doubt of this.

There seemed a legion of them, and the numbers were too great for the party of miners.

Barney and Pomp were instantly at the loopholes and giving the wretches a shower of bullets.

But all clambered aboard the coach, and just in time Bill Guernsey cracked his long whip and sent his eight horses flying down the pass.

His murderous gang came thundering in pursuit. The greasers rode like fiends and kept up a constant fire.

After it came the stage-coach, and the passengers were yelling and firing with full force.

The greasers came swarming up around the stage and it was possible that they would have annihilated the mining party but for an intervention.

They did not swerve, and the next moment the Man was among them. The wheels of the wagon overturned horses, split the party up and raised havoc.

Men were trampled beneath the Man’s iron feet. Horses were sent riderless over the plain and confusion ensued.

Right and left the outlaws were scattered. Several times Barney drew a bead on a leader of the gang whom he fancied to be Costello, but each time missed.

“Bejabers, I think I’ll have to learn how to shoot,” he muttered, disconsolately. “It’s three times shure that I thried it an’ each toime missed me mark.”

The stage-coach meanwhile under Bill Guernsey’s able guidance had gained a tremendous lead.

The greasers were completely scattered. The Steam Man went flying about the prairie picking them off by twos and threes.

It could have whipped an army on a plain of good size, for it could easily keep out of the way while a most deadly fire was kept up.

It was on its way to Saint’s Repose, which Frank reckoned was a small mining town, of which there were many in the Rocky Mountains.

There he believed it would not be difficult to pick up a respectable force of men with which to attack the greasers in the hills.

But the greasers could stick to the hills and no efforts would serve to dislodge them.

It required no little thought and consideration upon Frank’s part to decide what to do.

“Bejabers, av it was me,” declared Barney, sententiously, “I’d jist go an up there mesilf alone and lave the naygur aboard the Steam Man.”

“Golly! it am jes’ as easy fo’ yo’ to stay dar as fo’ me,” spluttered Pomp. “You’se a no count I’ishman, anyway.”

“Don’t yez say that to me, naygur, or I’ll spile the face av yez,“retorted Barney, with mock earnestness.

“Huh! jes’ yo’ try it, I’ish. Yo’ll hab yo’ han’s full in jes’ a minnit.”

It was likely that the two rascals would have indulged in a friendly rough-and-tumble but for Frank.

“Come, this won’t do,” he said, sharply. “If you want to have any skylarking, you must wait for a better time.”

Pomp made a grimace to Barney behind Frank’s back, and Barney shook his fist at the darky.

It would have been a long run of fifty miles, and the result would have been extremely doubtful.

“My mission is to rescue Harvey Montaine,” he decided, finally. “I don’t care to wage war upon the greasers or anybody else for any other purpose.”

Then he ran the Steam Man to the shores of a small lake and here, in a secluded spot, camp was made.

No fires were lit, as it was not deemed best to risk attracting the attention of the enemy.

The fires in the Steam Man were banked, and Pomp was elected to watch the first half of the night.

The Irishman had been on watch an hour when his attention was attracted by a singular manifestation.

At times it described a circle, then moved up and down and again waved back and forth.

After the light disappeared Barney was pondering over the mystery when another light appeared upon a hill more to the eastward.

“Bejabers, it’s tilegraphin’ back an’ forth they are,” he declared. “Och hone, now I wisht I cud rade whativer they be sayin’.”

After a time they disappeared altogether. Nothing more worthy of note occurred that night.

“Indeed!” exclaimed the young inventor. “That is an important cue. No doubt the hills upon which you saw the lights are near the den of Costello.”

With the coming of another day Frank decided to make a cautious attempt to enter the hills with the Steam Man.

Accordingly, steam was got up and the Man was sent along at a rapid gait toward the southern spur of the range.

It required an hour to cross the plain at this point, it being quite a long ways.

But finally the Steam Man reached this part of the range, and fortunately it was found that the mountain side here was clear and the Man could scale it.

What their game was Frank was not prepared to say, but he kept a sharp lookout, fearing treachery.

After climbing the mountain side for some time, the Man reached a spur, beyond which a good view of the interior country could be had.

With a glass he began to study the country beyond. In a few moments he gave an exclamation.

“Yes, I do. Take the glass, Barney, and tell me what that object is against that part of an extinct crater over there. Would you not call it a building?”

“Ye’re roight, Misther Frank. It’s a buildin’, an’ shure it’s made av stone an’ a roof of fir boughs. Shure there’s a wide clearing about it, and on three sides at least there is a steep descint, bejabers, which no man livin’ cud iver cloimb.”

“I thought so,” declared Frank, with gratification; “that will do, Barney.”

The Irishman handed Frank the glass. The young inventor was just about to view the distant buildings again when a startled yell came from Pomp.

“Massy sabe us!” cried the terrified darky. “We’se all goin’ to kingdom come dis berry minute. Look out fo’ dat big stun, Marse Frank—look out, everybody!”

Engrossed in contemplation of the distant crater Barney and Frank had not heeded things in the near vicinity.

They were trying hard to start the huge bowlder from its place. Their purpose was quite plain.

The bowlder started on its career down the mountain, unless swerved in its course, would strike the Steam Man.

“Golly sakes, Marse Frank!” cried Pomp, in utter horror. “Jus’ yo’ see dat trick of de greasers.”

“Give them a shot, boys!” he cried to Barney and Pomp, as he sprung to the dasher of the wagon.

Frank meanwhile had seized the brake and turned the Steam Man’s course to the right.

Down came the big stone like a whirlwind. The Steam Man escaped by the merest hair’s breadth.

The stone passed so close to the cage that the wind nearly took Barney’s breath away, he being on that side.

“Whurroo!” yelled the Irishman. “I niver see the bate av’ that. Jist about the toime the stone got here shure it looked to be the soize av’ a mountain.”

They had disappeared over the other side of the mountain. As this was heavily wooded pursuit was out of the question.

The voyagers were much disappointed that they could not have driven the greasers to decisive battle.

The wily rascals, however, well knew that the result would be serious for them and acted accordingly.

The tall derricks used in excavating the mine shaft were to be plainly seen, and smoke rising above the trees suggested the presence of a steam engine of the stationary kind.

“It is evident that there lies the gold claim which rightfully belongs to Harvey Montaine,” mused Frank. “I can understand now Senor Ravello’s assertion that the position of the greasers was unassailable. Indeed, with a handful of men a small army could be held at bay here.”

One thing was sure, the greasers had guarded the approaches to their mine well and strongly.

Frank gazed reflectively at the distant camp and thought of Harvey Montaine presumably a prisoner there.

Frank took a careful survey of the valley and the hills but he could see no way of reaching the greasers’ camp.

“Bejabers, I think the best thing we kin do at all, at all, is to go back the way we cum,” declared Barney.

“I declare, I believe you are right, Barney,” he said. “Well, so be it.”

They had not proceeded more than one hundred yards, when the patter of bullets came against the cage.

Looking back, the travelers saw that the top of the mountain was covered with the greasers.

Had any of the travelers ventured to leave the cage while on the mountain, they would have been shot down instantly.

The bullets rattled against the impervious steel netting of the cage in a shower.

He had decided to cross to the opposite wall of the mountain range, with the hope of finding an entrance there.

In order to do this it was necessary to make a wide detour of fully forty miles.

Where it led to Frank could only guess, but he took it, as it led in the direction he wished to follow.

A long fringe of willows and sycamores marked the course of a stream not two miles distant.

In the verge of the sycamores smoke arose in twirling columns, evidence of a camp-fire.

Also forms could be seen moving about, and horses were seen to be grazing upon the plain.

“Golly!” exclaimed Pomp, “does yo’ s’pose it am dose people cum back agin wid Silver Sam?”

“It is not impossible,” replied Frank, “and yet—look sharp, boys! Does not that look like Bill Guernsey’s stage?”

As they drew nearer the camp it was easy to see that it was the same party of prospectors under Silver Sam, only this time they were heavily reinforced.

There were half-breeds and Texans, Irishmen, Frenchmen and Americans, all in a conglomerated mass. But there was not a greaser among them.

They were all men from various walks of life come West to seek a fortune in the mines.

“Hello, friend!” he cried, cheerily. “Condemned glad to see ye! We’re back agin, ye see, and we’ve got more men this time. We mean to paralyze those greasers or lose our scalps.”

“I am glad to see you,” said Frank, coming out of the cage. “Indeed, it looks as if you meant business.”

“Yes, there’s a hundred of us more or less. They say Costello has three times as many, but our boys mean business and ain’t goin’ to be backed down by greasers, you can bet.”

“That’s the talk, pard!” cried big Diamond Jake, as he came forward and shook hands with Frank.

“But we want to extend our thanks to ye for covering our retreat so nobly the other day,” declared Silver Sam. “By Jericho! if it hadn’t been for you we’d have been salted sure by them pizen greasers.”

“If they will only attack the Steam Man in the open,” said Frank, with a smile, “I think I can handle them easily.”

“You bet! That’s a wonderful machine you’ve got, friend. Wall, have you learned any news?”

Frank described his trip to the top of the mountain and what he had seen therefrom.

“Good! We’ll help ye, friend, all we can. Now let’s go in and talk over a good move.”

Diamond Jake and Silver Sam led the way into a tent which was pitched on the banks of the creek.

“Ye see,” began Silver Sam, “we know well enough that Harvey has got a claim up there in the hills.”

“But we don’t propose to meddle with his property at all. Our claim is on t’other side of the range. But we can’t work it until we have done up Costello and his gang.”

“We kin split forces an’ enter the hills by two ways. The Steam Man can stay down here on the level ground. When we have driven the greasers out of the hills the Steam Man can clinch the victory.”

Diamond Jake’s words were not without a good impression upon the listeners. But before they could be commented upon an uproar arose from without. All sprang up and rushed to the door of the tent.

They were as genuine specimens of the prairie tough as one could rest eyes upon.

One was named “Copper Jake” and the other bore the euphonious title of “Buster Bill.”

Ordinarily the best of friends, it was hardly a moment before they were quarreling.

“You’re a goldurned liar,” exploded the Copper, savagely. “If ye don’t take yer insinuation back, I’ll salt ye.”

“If ye think ye kin do it ye’d better try now,” retorted the “Buster.”

They were held by one of the miners, and then the details of the affair were arranged.

Several of the miners were appointed to act as referees and judges, and then the cowboys went out and mounted their ponies.

It was at this juncture that Frank, Silver Sam and Diamond Jake came out of the tent.

“Ther Buster and ther Copper have made a bet that one will drag t’other first at the heels of his hoss.”

The miners crowded forward with their money, and bets were made as free as water.

Frank watched the scene with the interest of one viewing a phase of life wholly peculiar to the region about.

Out upon the plain the two cowboys rode. When well out they began to make a circle about each other.

High up into the air went the whirling cords. They would seem likely at any moment to settle about the cowboy’s head and shoulders.

But the slightest movement, a touch of the knee against the well-trained ponies’ sides, would cause the lariat to fall wide.

In vain each tried to outwit the other. It was a duel wholly without precedent, and fascinating to watch.

The “Buster” seemed to have the advantage for a time, but after a while his pony seemed to tire.

Of course it was only a question of agility and endurance, and the end must come some time.

Suddenly the Buster’s pony slipped, and quick as a flash Copper Jake’s lasso went out.

It fairly sung its course through the air, and with accurate aim went down about the Buster’s shoulders.

The next moment he went off his pony’s back and was dragged a dozen feet upon the ground.

But this he wisely refrained from doing. The crowd cheered, the Buster disentangled himself and rode into the camp much crestfallen and subdued.

It was a contest wholly peculiar to Western life, seen in counterpart nowhere else upon the face of the earth.

Diamond Jake and Silver Sam were around cashing their bets in their order but soon returned to Frank’s side.

“Excuse us, strangers,” said Jake, with a grin. “P’r’aps seein’ the Buster unhossed warn’t quite so important as the bizness we were talkin’ about, but you’ll admit it was mighty interesting.”

“Well, now that the scrap is over,” he said, brusquely, “let’s get to bizness.”

“Good fer you. Then it’s decided, is it, that we go up and try to rout out the gang? If we can drive ’em down onto the plain you’ll look after ’em?”

“A’right, Marse Frank,” declared Pomp. “We’se jes’ de chickens what can gib dose greasers a lickin’.”

The prospectors had decided not to start upon their invasion of the greasers’ stronghold until the next day.

As the prospectors had a picket line out, our travelers did not deem it necessary to set a watch.

He tried in vain to woo the gentle goddess. A premonition of some mighty peril was upon him.

At length, as his nerves grew more acute, he decided to get up and walk in the air in the hope of inducing slumber in that way.

He did not arouse Barney and Pomp, and quietly left the wagon. He passed through the camp and came to the banks of the creek.

Just as he reached this point he fancied that he saw shadowy forms moving a short distance out upon the prairie.

They were creeping noiselessly along over the soft grass. A chill of terror seized Frank Reade, Jr.

The more he pondered upon the matter the more convinced he became that such was a fact.

The prospectors had appointed a very strong picket guard. How had the greasers managed to pass them?

It was possible that they had silently overpowered the picket, or that the latter had slept at his post.

The realization came upon Frank Reade, Jr., with a force which for a moment seemed likely to overwhelm him.

“My soul!” he gasped. “They will be upon us before the alarm can be given!”

They would, no doubt, be cut down before they could really prepare themselves for the onslaught.

In that moment a dozen daring schemes flitted through the brain of the young inventor.

He thought of starting the Steam Man out amongst them with a view to breaking up their advance.

But the creek was between, and it would be some trouble to find a fording place.

“Easy,” said Frank, quietly. “The first outcry raised will bring them down upon you. They are near at hand.”

“We must go and arouse each man one by one. Do it silently and don’t let the foe hear a sound.”

Of course there was a momentary likelihood that the greasers would attack the camp before it could be aroused.

Each man upon being awakened, went to the cover of the sycamores and there waited for events.

In a very short time the whole camp was thus aroused and in readiness. The greasers would receive a hot welcome in their attack.

All was quiet about the prospectors’ camp. Frank went back to the Steam Man and aroused Barney and Pomp.

Every one of the miners was in the cover of the sycamores waiting for their Mexican foe.

They came on like a great wave and not a word was said until the creek was reached.

Then they broke the air with wild yells and dashed into the waters of the little stream, but they were destined to become the victims of surprise.

From the fringe of sycamores a line of flame leaped forth. The Mexicans fell in heaps in the waters of the creek.

Their surprise attack was turned upon them, and quickly proved the greatest surprise for themselves.

But it did little damage, and another volley from the prospectors turned the tide of battle.

Frank sent the Steam Man close to the bank of the creek, and Barney and Pomp opened fire with their repeaters.

The greasers saw at once that their plan had failed, and they retreated in wild dismay.

But in the darkness Silver Sam concluded that it would be folly and even dangerous to pursue them.

But the prospectors felt that they had gained an important victory and their cheers rent the air.

“I tell ye, boys!” he cried, “we kin whip the whole gang of them, even if they are three to one.”

The party were all glad to see it, for it would enable them to start at once upon their expedition into the hills.

As soon as possible, Silver Sam had all put in readiness for the start. Bill Guernsey and the stage were to carry a part of the company as far as the stage could go.

Then the others were to press forward on foot or horseback, as the exigency would demand.

Had it not been for leaving the Man, Frank, Barney and Pomp all would have liked to accompany the party.

But as it was, the best thing that they could do was to remain upon the plain and wait for coming events.

The party were soon out of sight. Hours passed, and the Steam Man remained at the mouth of the pass.

Our travelers longed to be in action, to be doing something. But for the present, however, there was little or nothing to do but wait.

Frank listened in a fever of excitement. He would have given much to be upon the scene.

But this was impossible, for the rocky pass would not allow of the passage of the Steam Man.

“Whew!” exclaimed the young inventor, impatiently. “It seems terrible to be compelled to sit here and do nothing.”

“Shure, if yez will agree to it, we will leave the naygur in the Stheam Man, an’ you an’ I will take a run up through there.”

“It am jes’ as yo’ says, Marse Frank. Yo’ jes’ go right along fo’ all ob dis chile.”

“All right!” cried the young inventor, with inspiration. “Come along, Barney.”

The sound of firing was now quite plain. But somewhat singularly, they were unable to locate it.

There existed in the place a strange sort of echo which carried the sound away into different quarters.

Revolvers were leveled at their heads, and the leader, a villainous looking fellow, exclaimed:

In a twinkling the two prisoners were disarmed and their hands were bound behind them.

Then suddenly the buzz of voices came to their ears and the bandages were removed.

“We know you, senors. You have come here with your Steam Man to make war upon Miguel Costello. By his orders we now consign you to a living death. You shall feel the weight of Costello’s vengeance.”

Both men were led to the mouth of the shaft and then the other end of the rope thrown over the windlass.

Several men operated the windlass, and Frank and Barney were swung into space over the mouth of the shaft.

The windlass creaked above them, the light of day went out, and it seemed truly as if they were going out of the world forever.

“I hope you will find it pleasant down there, senors. Many good men have gone there before you, and you will find their bones. You can know your fate now. Nobody will ever find you down there, for the existence of this shaft is known to no one but Costello and his men.”

“Death!” he muttered, with white lips. “Why should I fear it, and yet I cannot face it.”

“Bad cess to the omadhouns!” he muttered. “I wud jest loike a chance fer to git a whack at them greasers wid a good shillelah. I’d vinture to clane out the lot av thim alone.”

“You will hardly get the chance, Barney,” said Frank, lugubriously. “I fear that we are done for.”

“Bejabers, thin, I’ll cum back an’ haunt the omadhouns, that I will!” cried Barney, angrily.

Gradually, however, as their eyes became accustomed to the shadows, they were able to distinguish objects within reach.

No sooner had they struck the bottom of the shaft, than the rope came tumbling down after them.

“My soul!” he muttered, “this is the end of all. We shall never be rescued from here.”

A bleaching skeleton lay at his feet. There were others near, remains of former victims.

This taught the two buried men plainer than words that it was useless to attempt the finding of another outlet to the labyrinth passages leading from the main shaft into the bowels of the earth.

They had but to await death. It was certain, inevitable, and the sooner it came the sooner they would be spared the suffering and misery of their awful fate, more awful than words can express.

The darky had a singular foreboding that no good would come of the expedition of Frank and Barney.

“I jes’ finks dey oughter hab stayed yer,” he muttered, “but, ob co’se, it was no manner ob use fo’ me to tell Frank Reade, Jr., dat.”

Finally the shadows of night began to settle down thick and fast, and Pomp grew very nervous.

“Golly, I jes’ wish dey would hab some little respect fo’ dis chile’s feelin’s an’ come back,” he muttered.

Without doubt they were wondering in their bear minds what manner of intruder this was, and had come down the mountain to investigate.

He knew that he was safe enough in the cage and could do this with impunity. Therefore he chuckled to himself.

“I jes’ fink dem b’ars fink dey am some big stuff,” he muttered, “but dey am a flea bite ’longside ob de Steam Man.”

The Steam Man, however, hardly stood higher than one of the brutes, who was a perfect monster.

For a moment they sniffed the air thus, then the largest rose upon his hind feet and let out a roar that made the air tremble.

He was not five feet from the Steam Man when mischievous Pomp unable to restrain himself, pulled the whistle valve.

He rolled over and over in a heap and both bears went a safe distance up the mountain side.

There they paused and began to roar and growl furiously and tear up the ground with their claws.

“Golly, I jes’ reckon dat was one very much s’prised bear,” he cried, hilariously. “I jes’ fink he don’ want no paht ob de Steam Man any more.”

They advanced cautiously, taking much time and sniffing the air suspiciously as before.

As the Steam Man’s whistle went up on the air both bears went tumbling back somersaults.

With quick aim he pulled the trigger. One of the bears received a bullet in the shoulder.

The bear’s teeth failed to penetrate the Man’s iron armor, and the hot iron burned into the bear’s flesh.

The air was instantly filled with the smoke and aroma of burning hair and bear meat.

With a howl of agony the bear recoiled and began scratching its belly furiously with its forward paws.

Angered, it dealt the Man a terrific blow, and Pomp saw that the crisis had come.

Pomp’s aim was deadly, and the big brute went to the ground in a heap with a bullet in the brain.

So he started the Man ahead a few feet, then took almost point-blank aim and drove a bullet into the bear’s vitals.

The darky naturally felt a bit elated to think that he had slain two grizzlies with so little exertion.

“Sakes alibe, what will Marse Frank say to dat when he comes back?” muttered Pomp. “I fink he will hab dem critters’ skins fo’ his house in Readestown.”

But a fresh emergency at that moment claimed his attention and he was unable to do so.

In pulling the whistle valve of the Man it had not occurred to Pomp that any serious result could accrue therefrom.

But as it happened, it was the certain way of letting his foes know of his presence in the vicinity.

They bore down upon the spot full sail, and Pomp’s first apprisal of their presence was in the shape of a loud shout as the party swung into view from behind the clump of trees below.

“Heavens!” he gasped. “I beliebe dat de rapscallions heerd dat ar whistle. I’d oughter know’d better.”

Pomp saw that his only salvation was in retreat, so he swung the Man about and pulled wide the throttle.

But the horses of the greasers were alongside, and one of them reached over and pulled the throttle rein.

He still held the rein, shouting to his comrades to board the wagon. Pomp pulled the cord in vain to reopen the throttle.

Finding he was unable to do this, he picked up a rifle and would have drawn a bead upon the fellow but for an incident which occurred to prevent.

The pistol was dashed from Pomp’s grasp, and he was wrestling the next moment with his foe.

Finding it, Pomp was securely bound. The greasers seemed more than excited over their capture.

“Sakes alibe!” he muttered, despairingly. “Whatebber will Marse Frank an’ de oders say when dey come back an’ don’ fin’ de Steam Man here any more?”

It was evident that they did not know how it worked for they did not attempt to operate it.

Pomp volunteered no information. At opportune moments he writhed in his bonds trying to break them.

One of them did pull the throttle rein but it had got tangled about the indicator and did not open the valve.

At length, having seemingly failed to understand the mechanism of the Man, they made a peculiar move.

Pomp was much mystified at these proceedings. But he drew a natural inference in regard to them.

He concluded that the greasers had decided to go to camp and report their find and capture.

They would then return with a man who thoroughly understood working a steam engine.

Having decided that this was their move, Pomp at once began to exert himself to gain his freedom.

If he could succeed in doing so before they returned, he could turn the tables upon them cleverly.

With one wrist freed, he went at once to work upon the lariat which bound his feet.

It was but a moment’s work to reach for a knife in a locker near and sever the bonds.

Thus freed, he sprang upon his feet. The night was dark as pitch, but this did not matter to Pomp.

“Golly, I’ll bet dey don’ cotch dis chile dat way ag’in,” he declared, sententiously.

He felt that the greater distance he put between him and the spot, the less chance there would be of falling in to the greasers’ hands again.

“Sakes alibe!” he muttered. “I jus’ fink I keep my eyes open hereafter. Don’ wan’ nuffin’ mo’ to do wif dem greasers. I’ll jes’ wait fo’ Marse Frank to come back.”

But oh! had Pomp known the position of his master at that moment he would have been thrilled with horror.

Left alone at the bottom of the shaft, the sensations experienced by Frank and Barney were of the most despairing sort.

The air was foul and damp, and there were stagnant pools of water in places suggestive of diseases of horrible sort.

The companionship of the skeletons of former victims was not of the pleasantest.

Crawling into the driest places of the mine passages, Frank and Barney sank down quite overcome.

“Well, Barney,” said the young inventor, ruefully, “this is rather a bad outlook for us.”

“Bejabers, I should say so,” exclaimed the Celt in despair. “Shure I’m thinkin’ we’ll be afther dyin’ in this place.”

“It might, but I have no belief that it will. We have only Pomp to search for us, and he would never find this shaft. Even if he found it he would never suspect that we were at the bottom of it.”

It was at sight of a passage leading out of the pit and into the bowels of the earth at a point some thirty feet above.

It required some careful study in the gloom to decide whether this really was a passage or not.

But finally the two prisoners decided that it was the passage of an upper level.

With this discovery came the thought that by it escape might be made from the mine.

“But how will we get up there?” asked Frank. “I can’t see how it is to be done myself.”

“Bejabers, that’s so,” said Barney, ruefully. “Shure, it’s a bit av a ways up there. Av I was to sthand on yure shoulders, shure I cudn’t reach it.”

Then his eye caught sight of the rope which had been thrown into the pit after them.

“Here, Barney!” said Frank, handing the rope to the Celt. “You have learned the trick of throwing the lasso.”

“Shure an’ I have that, Misther Frank!” he cried. “An’ I’ve not forgotten it aither.”

Barney coiled the long rope carefully and made a turn about a small stone to give it increased weight.

“I missed it that toime,” said Barney, in disgust, “but I’ll not do that again ye may be shure.”

The stone tied to its end brought the rope down to the ground again. Barney quickly knotted the ends together and cried:

“Shure it’s all roight now, Misther Frank, and shall I be the first to go an up?”

In a few moments he had reached the cross beam and swung himself over into the passage.

In a very few moments he had reached the beam above and was quickly by Barney’s side.

“Here we are,” he declared. “Now for business. First, let us see where this passage can go to.”

Fortunately he had not been deprived of his pocket lantern when captured by the greasers.

Here it came to a termination. A blank wall of earth and quartz ledge was before them.

There was no doubt but that the miners had once followed a vein of quartz through this passage, and had reached what they believed to be its termination here.

The result of this dampening discovery upon Barney and Frank was disheartening in the extreme.

“Bejabers, that’s so, Misther Frank,” acknowledged the Celt. “Yet, on me worrud, I hate to give it up.”

There was plainly no way to go further. To attempt to dig a way out would be the height of folly.

It was much drier and cleaner however in this passage than at the bottom of the pit. So it was decided to remain here.

“We are thirty feet nearer the surface,” said Frank. “Oh, if there was only some way to go the rest of the way.”

“Bejabers, I’m not sure but there is,” cried Barney, as he picked up the rope. “Av yez only remimber there’s beams acrost the shaft at intervals all the way up.”

In a few moments they had reached the mouth of the passage, and Barney measured the distance to the beam above.

“Whurroo!” he cried, exultantly. “I tell yez I kin jest do it an’ don’t ye fergit it. Luk out fer ye’silf.”

Balancing himself upon the beam at the mouth of the passage Barney made a throw with the coil of rope.

It passed over the upper beam and came down so that the Celt could grasp the other end of it.

“Shure, Misther Frank!” cried the brave Irishman, “whin I reach the mouth av the shaft I’ll let the rope down an’ draw yez up.”

It was a frightful distance to overcome, but the Celt had full confidence and any amount of pluck.

Barney had overcome over fifty feet of the thousand. But it was hard to say what obstacles might not be before him.

Yet the plucky Irishman realized that any chance of the sort was better than lying down to die at the bottom of the shaft.

“Whurroo! Misther Frank!” he cried, with exultation. “Shure, I’m makin’ out foinely. There’s another beam jist over me head.”

An end of the rope came tumbling down. A moment later Barney came down and swung into the passage.

“I cudn’t, Misther Frank. Shure the nixt beam was more nor eighty feet above me head an’ I cudn’t throw the rope over it nohow.”

“I am not a coward,” he said, earnestly, “but truly, Barney, it seems hard, indeed, to die in this manner.”

“Shure it’s all av that, Misther Frank,” said the brave Celt. “Av it was not so far, I think we cud dig our way out av the place.”

With an instinctive feeling that this might be possible, they retreated to the far end of the passage.

But the sober reflection that there were many hundred feet of earth between them and the outer air, and that they had no tools to dig with, dispersed this theory like mist.

Frank’s head was near the wall of the passage, and suddenly he experienced a strange thrill.

It was not far distant, either, and as the young inventor listened, he heard very distinctly the ring of pickaxes and the low hum of voices.

It was an astounding discovery, and caused him to apply his ear closely to the passage wall.

The ring of pickaxes was quite audible, and could not have been twenty feet distant through the wall of earth.

Was some one coming to their rescue through the earth? Or was it all a delusion?

The former theory was at once dispelled. If any friends knew of their presence there they would scarcely go to the trouble of rescuing them by means of digging through a thousand feet of earth.

A few moments’ pulling at the mouth of the shaft would have brought them both out of their difficulty.

“Begorra, Misther Frank,” said Barney, in a mystified way, “phwativer do yez call that?”

“Shure yez don’t suppose it is fairies?” whispered the superstitious Celt.

It had occurred to him that the greasers were conducting mining operations in these hills.

Might it not be that in their shaft sinking they had followed a vein dangerously near the old shaft?

In fact, it was not impossible that in a few hours they might not dig their way actually through into the old mine.

“Barney,” he said, earnestly, “upon my soul, I believe that we are bound to make our escape.”

For some time the two prisoners listened to the sounds of the pickaxes, and the voices of the workmen could almost be distinguished.

Then Frank recollected the hour, and that without doubt they had retired for the purpose of gaining sleep.

“I mean that we must dig our way through and meet that passage. It will be deserted, and though it will lead us into the camp of the greasers, we will stand a chance to escape.”

“Bejabers, ye’re right!” he cried. “But how will we do it? Shure, we ’aven’t any pick nor shovel.”

“Somewhere in this mine there must be some old ones!” cried Frank. “Let us search.”

Then with the pocket lantern they began an exploration of the place, and with most gratifying results.

The bar could be used in lieu of a pickaxe. They quickly returned to the upper level.

Frank guessed from the hollow sounds that they were now not many feet from the inner mine.

In less than twenty minutes later his bar went through the wall of earth and he lost it.

But, fortunately, with the shovel they were able to enlarge the aperture sufficiently to enable him to pass through.

The coast was clear apparently, and they moved forward, not, however, without great caution.

The passage seemed to extend a great ways through the earth. They followed it for what seemed a good while and yet there was presented no sign of the main shaft.

“That is curious!” exclaimed Frank, in surprise. “There certainly is a main shaft somewhere. We must soon find it.”

“Begorra, maybe there’s none at all,” said Barney, logically. “Perhaps it leads into some koind av a cave or the loikes.”

There was more in Barney’s remark of a pertinent sort than seemed at the moment likely.

At first Frank had been inclined to believe it a lantern carried by some of the greasers, who were coming back into the mine to work.

“That is at the end of this passage,” he declared. “Come on, Barney. Let’s get out of here as quickly as possible.”

Then Frank saw that it occupied the whole size of the passage and at once understood that it was a chamber beyond illuminated.

This theory was borne out perfectly well, when, a few moments later, they came to the mouth of the passage.

They came out upon a sort of circular gallery about a deep amphitheater which lay below them.

The passage was only one of many leading into this gallery, and there were other galleries of similar sort.

The light which illuminated the amphitheater, which was of large dimensions, was created by a large pitchwood fire burning in the center of the mine floor below.

Frank looked up and saw patches of the night sky through apertures in the roof of the mine, which was not far above their heads.

The fact was, a cave had originally occupied the spot and the galleries and passages had been added by man.

It was certainly a wonderful spectacle. The floor was full fifty feet below, and as our adventurers looked down from the gallery they saw a large number of the greasers lounging about the place.

Others were playing dice or talking and smoking their cheroots, and the hum of conversation came upon the air.

“By Jove!” exclaimed Frank, with a thrill, “I tell you, Barney, we have found the den of Costello and his gang.”

“Right you are, Barney. If those miners return and discover our escape from the shaft they will be quickly after us.”

There were none of the greasers, apparently, in any of the galleries or passages above the floor.

It was, of course, decidedly unsafe to venture down within the circle of the firelight.

“If they would only all go to sleep,” said the young inventor, “then we could be sure of slipping by them.”

There was no doubt but that many of them would remain up all night. What was to be done?

But men were constantly passing in and out, and it would be utterly impossible to escape in that direction.

At any moment some one of the greasers might come upon them. It was clear that desperate action had got to be taken at once.

He even thought of a break for liberty through the outer passage. But second thought showed that this was suicidal.

The Celt, without a word, followed Frank. But they had not descended three steps when the young inventor came to a startled halt.

“Heavens!” he gasped. “We cannot go down now. Back for your life, Barney.”

Of course while they should remain there the way was blocked for Frank and Barney.

They knew that at any moment the miners might return to their work and then their escape from the old shaft would be discovered.

Instantly the greasers below sprang up with loud cries, and made a rush for the galleries.

“My God!” he gasped. “We are lost, Barney. They have discovered our escape!”

“Begorra, that’s thrue enough,” agreed the Celt. “Phwat shall we do, sor?”

He rushed into it and found that he was in one of the many passages which made a honeycomb of the hill.

All was darkness, but the young inventor did not care for this, so long as safety was assured.

“Shure, sor, let us stay here by the opening. Pretty quick the blathershites will all be gone by. Shure, thin, we kin slip out av here, an’ p’r’aps foinde our way out through the main passage. Do yez see?”

“There is logic in your plan, Barney,” declared Frank. “I think we will try it.”

Soon they were heard in the upper gallery, and it seemed as if the coast was clear.

But as he looked in the other direction he was given a mighty thrill of horror and dismay.

They blocked the passage, and what was worse at that moment, they saw Frank Reade, Jr., and gave a yell of discovery.

“My soul! we are discovered!” he cried, wildly. “Come, Barney, we must follow this passage somewhere—anywhere.”

“That’s the divil’s luck!” cried Barney, in dismay. “But sure, sir, I’m wid yez foriver. We’ll give the omadhouns the slip yet, or me name ain’t O’Shea.”

Lights were seen in their rear, and at times it seemed as if their pursuers must surely overtake them.

Of course in the darkness there was imminent danger at any moment of falling into some dangerous pit or hole.

Every moment new passages were encountered. Frank adopted the tactics of dodging into every one he could come to and keeping to the right.

Both were quite exhausted, and Barney was particularly so. The Celt flung himself flat upon the floor of the cavern.

“Och hone, Misther Frank,” he cried, in a panting manner, “shure, it’s all done out I am wid the exertion av the run. But we’ve disthanced the divils anyhow.”

“That’s true,” agreed Frank, “but in my opinion we are a long ways from being out of the scrape.”

“They probably will make a very thorough search. In that case they will be likely to run us down.”

Lying upon the hard floor of the shaft the two fugitives listened fearfully for sounds of the pursuit.

Finally Frank decided that the best move was to cautiously work their way if possible back to the main body of the mine.

In this manner they crept along in a cautious way. What seemed an age passed, when a startling incident occurred.

“Well, that is odd!” exclaimed the young inventor, with a laugh, in spite of the possible seriousness of the situation. “How did you get there?”

The voice of the Celt seemed to be within a few yards of him, and yet was dull and muffled.

It occurred to Frank of a sudden that Barney had wandered into a parallel passage and was now opposite him, beyond a thick wall of stone.

“Why, go back, of course, and get into the right passage and come along with me.”

“Be sure and take the first turn to the right. Then keep straight along the wall until you reach me.”

No answer came back. Now Frank was really alarmed. Cold perspiration burst out upon him.

Fearful that this was the case Frank lost no time, but started to retrace his steps.

He kept carefully and closely to the wall of the passage and at intervals shouted loudly.

Frank did not credit any assumption that Barney had fallen into the hands of the greasers.

He reckoned, correctly enough, that the Celt had been misled further away into other passages and was lost.

Frank was not sure that he would ever find his way out of the place, and was oppressed with dismay.

It seemed certain that it must sooner or later bring him into the one in which Barney had gone astray.

It was almost impossible to tell, with any degree of certainty, just where any one would come up. For that matter, it would be easy to keep up a perpetual circuit until death from sheer exhaustion should come to end the struggle. It was a situation not without grim terrors.

The further Frank went along the cavern wall, the more fearful he became that he would not be able to find Barney again.

In this quandary and a state of mind most indescribable, Frank strove to make his way along in the darkness.

He next turned his attention to the problem of finding his way out of the place himself.

Once he should succeed in doing this and in joining his friends there was no doubt but that he could devise a way to return and make a successful quest for Barney.

It was a distant sound like the mumbling of voices and gave Frank a queer thrill of comprehension.

In an instant he realized that he had reached a point in close proximity to those who were searching for him.

The next moment he felt a clutch upon his shoulder and then talon fingers closed about his windpipe.

Not a word did his assailant speak. Who or what he was Frank could only conjecture.

But if this was the case, somewhat singularly the fellow made no effort to cry out for his companions.

Backward and forward they swayed and reeled. Now one held the advantage and now the other.

“That’s nothin’ to you,” gritted the other, huskily. “I’m after yer scalp an’ I’m goin’ ter have it.”

“Ye’d better give in at onct. If ye’ll surrender now I’ll spare yer life an’ take ye down to Costello.”

“Look here!” said Frank, sharply. “I want to know what sort of a chap you are. I can tell by your talk that you are not a greaser.”

“Of course not. Yet I would give one of my own countrymen credit for better sense than that.”

“Wall, I don’t ax any odds of you nor nobody else. Let go of my wrist or I’ll stick this knife atwixt yer ribs.”

With a curse the villain strove to carry out his threat; but Frank hung on to his grip well.

Frank Reade, Jr., was not a heavy man, but extremely quick and muscular. He managed to hold his own.

Frank knew at once that the greasers were coming that way, and he understood well the result.

This filled him with desperate resolution, and he made a reckless attempt to end the struggle then and there.

Exerting all his strength, he swung his adversary against the wall of the passage.

With such force did the villain strike the wall that he was for a moment stunned.

Quick as a flash he severed his hold with the foe and darted away in the darkness.

But Frank had got a good start, and went flying down the dark shaft like a meteor.

In a few moments he had distanced his pursuer. He came to a halt somewhat out of breath.

There was no doubt but that the villain had taken another corridor and was far astray.

He sank down upon the damp floor of the mine passage to recover his breath and strength.

It had been a hard tussle and he came off victorious only at a great expense of muscular power.

He knew the great importance of escaping from the place. He thought of Barney, and at that moment a singular sound came to his hearing.

It was like the yawn of a waking person. The next moment a familiar voice in a muttering key broke the air:

“Bejabers, I’ve been ashleep, an’ more’s the shame to me. Phwativer will Misther Frank think, whin I tell him of it? But shure I was that tired I could niver kape me eyes open at all, at all.”

“Misther Frank!” cried the Celt, with wildest joy. “Shure is that yez, sor?”

It seemed that Barney had wandered into another passage and completely lost his way.

The thickness of the separate walls had prevented Frank’s voice from reaching him or his voice from reaching Frank.

“Bejabers, I’ll kape close enough to yez now, Misther Frank,“declared Barney, vigorously. “Not a minnit will I lave yez, shure.”

“It will be the safest way,” agreed Frank. “We will have to look sharp to avoid the foe. Ah!”

It was certainly a fact that at last they had found their way into a passage leading into the main body of the mine.

Soon the light grew stronger, and they became certain that they were coming back to the very point they had started from.

Nothing was seen or heard of the greasers now. They were doubtless exploring the passages yet in pursuit of the fugitives.

“Shure, it’s a nice slip we gave them intoirely,” declared Barney, with a chuckle.

“You are right,” agreed Frank. “Now, if fortune favors us, we will be able to escape from this den.”

At length they reached the end of the passage and once more came out into the gallery of the mine.

There were none of the greasers in the gallery, but venturing to look down into the pit below Frank saw that there were fully as many of them yet gathered about the fire.

To attempt to pass through the main part of the mine unobserved was utterly out of the question.

They would be sure to be spotted by the foe, but Frank had decided upon a move and started to creep along down the gallery, when a startling thing occurred.

Frank heard a rasping sound almost at his shoulder and then a whisper came, shrill and clear:

A white face was pressed against it, and as Frank looked up he barely repressed a loud cry of amazement.

“My soul!” came back in a thrilled whisper. “Is that you Frank Reade, Jr.?”

“We are alone and unaided here. We escaped into this place from an old shaft near here into which we had been cast to die.”

“Heaven is with you!” cried Montaine, feverishly. “The Almighty has sent you to effect my rescue. Oh, Frank, I cannot tell you what I have suffered in the last month.”

“You have my sympathy,” replied Frank, warmly. “And if it lies within my power I mean to wrest you from the power of Miguel Costello.”

“Of course I would. I can imagine what you have suffered, dear friend. But this fiend—Costello—what was his purpose?”

“Partly revenge, and partly a scheme to defraud me of my legal claim to the mine.”

“Oh, no; the claim is a richer one and a full two miles from here. This is an old, disused Spanish mine, worked by the early Spaniards.”

“I think he is sinking a shaft at my mine. He comes here only to taunt and deride me in my helplessness.”

“The scoundrel!” exclaimed Frank; “but how are we to get you out of there?”

“Oh, Heaven help you to succeed!” exclaimed the prisoner. “These bars are too strong to break. But I think it is a simple matter to raise the barriers which are below. There is no lock, and no key is used. Simply steel bars are shot into their sockets. They should be easily opened from the outside.”

“Of course,” replied Frank, eagerly. “It is as you say. Have patience for a brief moment, and you shall come out of your cell.”

It required but a few moments’ work for Frank to lift the bars, and then the cell door swung back.

He was but a trifle older than Frank, and much after his type. The two friends embraced warmly.

“Oh, God, you cannot know what a joy it is to be relieved from that cursed cell,” said Montaine, fervidly. “It is like entering upon an entirely new life.”

“I can imagine it well,” replied Frank, “but the danger is not over. We are still in the lion’s den.”

“Ah, I fear that we will never see daylight again,” he whispered, hopelessly. “There is but one entrance to this place that I know of and that is securely guarded as you see.”

Three of the greasers suddenly appeared not ten feet below. They saw the escaped prisoners and a cry of alarm escaped their lips.

Weapons they had none, save the shovel and the iron bar which they had brought with them from the old shaft.

Frank recovered the iron bar and Montaine secured a couple of pistols from the fallen greaser.

The heroic little trio meant to die game if the foe should venture up the stairway again.

Circumstances occurred to prevent this contingency. Loud shouts went up from below, and great excitement seemed to ensue.

Frank exchanged startled glances with Montaine, and a sudden inspiration seized him.

“My soul!” he cried. “Do you believe it possible that Silver Sam and his men have whipped the greasers and have penetrated to this place?”

“Begorra, there’s a fight goin’ on out there phwativer it manes!“cried Barney.

The report of rifle shots were now rapid and near at hand. The yells and cries of the contestants could be plainly heard.

So they rushed down into the place, but scarcely had their feet touched the cavern floor when half a dozen armed men burst into the cavern.

At first Frank thought they might be some of the greasers returned, and consequently foes.

“Hooray!” shouted a hearty voice, “however did you come here, Mr. Reade?”

“We are saved!” cried Frank, joyfully. “Your men have the best of it, Sam?”

“Cert,” replied the sport, readily. “We scattered them like chaff. Oh, I tell ye, one good man can whip three greasers any time.”

The prospectors had given the greasers a tremendous defeat. Miguel Costello fell at the head of his men.

“Our mission is ended, Barney. Now let us return to Readestown the quickest way.”

“All roight Misther Frank. I suppose the fust thing is to find the naygur and the Steam Man.”

“I can never fully repay you, Frank, old friend. But for you I might never have seen daylight again.”

“I knew that you would do it, so I sent for you. The time may come when I can return the favor.”

“I have a very rich claim upon the other side of the mountain. I shall make a large fortune out of it.”

The gang was thoroughly broken up with the death of Costello, and they dispersed to the settlements a hundred miles south.

The prospectors from Saint’s Repose at once staked out their claims and began to sink a shaft.

Harvey Montaine had no trouble in finding plenty of men who were willing to take hold with him in opening up his own claim.

His predictions proved true, and he eventually reaped a large fortune from his claim.

Frank and Barney were escorted down the pass to the place where they had left Pomp and the Steam Man by Silver Sam, Diamond Jake and a party of the prospectors.

Pomp, as we have seen in a preceding chapter, had released himself from his bonds after being captured by the greasers, had got aboard the Steam Man and taken to the plain for safety.

All that night he kept on the move in the vicinity, taking care to guard against a second surprise.

But he was not attacked again, and some time after daylight he ventured to return to the spot where Barney and Frank upon returning would expect to find him.

He had hardly done so when they appeared accompanied by Silver Sam and his crowd.

Of course an exchange of experiences followed and then Frank and Barney boarded the Steam Man.

“Three cheers for Frank Reade, Jr., and the Steam Man, boys,” cried Silver Sam, heartily.

They were given with a will. Frank replied with several sharp notes from the whistle and then the Man was off.

For days the Steam Man kept on over wide plains until at length Laredo was reached again. Then once more the Steam Man was put aboard the cars.

Harvey Montaine did not forget the favor done him, for two years later he sent Frank’s wife a valuable solitaire diamond worth many thousand of dollars from the mines of South America.

And so ends the story of hot work among the greasers, but it does not conclude the experiences of the Steam Man, a further account of which may be found in No. 6, of the Frank Reade Library , entitled:

“FRANK READE, JR., WITH HIS NEW STEAM MAN CHASING A GANG OF ’RUSTLERS;’ or,
Wild Adventures in Montana .”

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1. Frank Reade, Jr., and His New Steam Man; or, The Young Inventor’s Trip to the Far West,	By “Noname.”
2. Frank Reade, Jr., With His New Steam Man in No Man’s Land; or, On a Mysterious Trail,	By “Noname.”
3. Frank Reade, Jr., With His New Steam Man in Central America,	By “Noname.”
4. Frank Reade, Jr., With His New Steam Man in Texas; or, Chasing the Train Robbers,	By “Noname.”
5. Frank Reade, Jr., With His New Steam Man in Mexico; or, Hot Work Among the Greasers,	By “Noname.”
6. Frank Reade, Jr., With His New Steam Man Chasing a Gang of “Rustlers;” or, Wild Adventures in Montana,	By “Noname.”
7. Frank Reade, Jr., and His New Steam Horse; or, The Search for a Million Dollars. A Story of Wild Life in Mexico,	By “Noname.”

1. Two Dandies of New York; or, The Funny Side of Everything,	By Tom Teaser
2. Cheeky Jim, the Boy From Chicago; or, Nothing Too Good for Him,	By Sam Smiley
3. Gymnastic Joe; or, Not a Bit Like His Uncle,	By Tom Teaser
4. Shorty; or, Kicked Into Good Luck,	By Peter Pad

The Project Gutenberg eBook of Frank Reade, Jr., with his new steam man in Mexico

Transcriber’s Notes

FRANK READE, JR., WITH HIS NEW STEAM MAN IN MEXICO;
OR, HOT WORK AMONG THE GREASERS.

CHAPTER I.
KIDNAPPED BY GREASERS.

CHAPTER II.
EN ROUTE TO MEXICO.

CHAPTER III.
THE TREACHEROUS RANCHERO.

CHAPTER IV.
THE PROSPECTORS.

CHAPTER V.
BEATING A RETREAT.

CHAPTER VI.
SILVER SAM RETURNS.

CHAPTER VII.
THE COWBOYS’ DUEL.

CHAPTER VIII.
INTO THE MOUNTAINS.

CHAPTER IX.
POMP’S ADVENTURES.

CHAPTER X.
FUTILE ATTEMPTS AT ESCAPE.

CHAPTER XI.
INTO THE GREASERS’ DEN.

CHAPTER XII.
THE PURSUIT UNDERGROUND.

CHAPTER XIII.
A STRUGGLE IN THE DARK.

CHAPTER XIV.
THE END.

THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE

The Project Gutenberg eBook of Frank Reade, Jr., with his new steam man in Mexico

Transcriber’s Notes

FRANK READE, JR., WITH HIS NEW STEAM MAN IN MEXICO; OR, HOT WORK AMONG THE GREASERS.

CHAPTER I. KIDNAPPED BY GREASERS.

CHAPTER II. EN ROUTE TO MEXICO.

CHAPTER III. THE TREACHEROUS RANCHERO.

CHAPTER IV. THE PROSPECTORS.

CHAPTER V. BEATING A RETREAT.

CHAPTER VI. SILVER SAM RETURNS.

CHAPTER VII. THE COWBOYS’ DUEL.

CHAPTER VIII. INTO THE MOUNTAINS.

CHAPTER IX. POMP’S ADVENTURES.

CHAPTER X. FUTILE ATTEMPTS AT ESCAPE.

CHAPTER XI. INTO THE GREASERS’ DEN.

CHAPTER XII. THE PURSUIT UNDERGROUND.

CHAPTER XIII. A STRUGGLE IN THE DARK.

CHAPTER XIV. THE END.

THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE

FRANK READE, JR., WITH HIS NEW STEAM MAN IN MEXICO;
OR, HOT WORK AMONG THE GREASERS.

CHAPTER I.
KIDNAPPED BY GREASERS.

CHAPTER II.
EN ROUTE TO MEXICO.

CHAPTER III.
THE TREACHEROUS RANCHERO.

CHAPTER IV.
THE PROSPECTORS.

CHAPTER V.
BEATING A RETREAT.

CHAPTER VI.
SILVER SAM RETURNS.

CHAPTER VII.
THE COWBOYS’ DUEL.

CHAPTER VIII.
INTO THE MOUNTAINS.

CHAPTER IX.
POMP’S ADVENTURES.

CHAPTER X.
FUTILE ATTEMPTS AT ESCAPE.

CHAPTER XI.
INTO THE GREASERS’ DEN.

CHAPTER XII.
THE PURSUIT UNDERGROUND.

CHAPTER XIII.
A STRUGGLE IN THE DARK.

CHAPTER XIV.
THE END.