“It’s no use fussing about it,” cheerily said Gorse, as the man came to a dead stop, and he leaped to the ground. “Both of these machines are very good for speed and effect, but it’s impossible to prevent them from getting out of order if we persist in using them in this slap-dash style. Be good enough to jump down and help me to find what’s up with the old fellow.”
“My boys will be cut to pieces,” said Harry Hale. “They’ll rush into any sort of wild danger if I’m not with them to hold them in check.”
“Don’t fret,” said Charley. “It’s my private opinion that they lost so much time, that they have not been able to come up with Pomp or his pursuers. As for the darkey, I have no fears, for he’s a devil of a fighter, and the best rider in the West, bar none.”
By this time Hale was upon the ground by Charley’s side, and together they went over the machine.
“Running posts all right?” asked Hale.
“Yes,” said Charley.
“Your axles cool?”
“Yes, as ice; not a bit swelled.”
“Water all right?”
“Yes, and steam gauge indicating a high pressure—forty pounds. I must blow off steam.”