'How much is on now?'
'One hundred and forty-eight, and rising.'
'Good heavens! it will blow up!' was the exclamation, as the three shrunk back, appalled at the danger.
'Not for a few minutes; have you the gold secured, and the guns, so as to be ready to run?'
They were ready to run at any moment; the gold was always secured about their persons and it required but a moment to snatch up the weapons.
'When it blows up, run!' was the admonition of the boy.
The steam man was turned directly toward the wall, and a full head of steam let on. It started away with a bound, instantly reaching a speed of forty miles an hour.
The next moment it struck the bowlders with a terrific crash, shot on over its face, leaving the splintered wagon behind, and at the instant of touching ground upon the opposite side directly among the thunderstruck Indians, it exploded its boiler!
The shock of the explosion was terrible. It was like the bursting of an immense bomb-shell, the steam man being blown into thousands of fragments, that scattered death and destruction in every direction. Falling in the very center of the crouching Indians, it could but make a terrible destruction of life, while those who escaped unharmed, were beside themselves with consternation.
This was the very thing upon which young Brainerd had counted, and for which he made his calculations. When he saw it leap toward the wall in such a furious manner, he knew the inevitable consequence, and gave the word to his friends to take to their legs.