[CHAPTER XIV.]
THE SUIT OF MAIL.
While waiting for the darkness to come on, Frank Reade took the precaution to see that everything about the machine was kept in trim.
“Now, gentlemen,” he said, as the shadows of night began to gather around the Steam Horse, “I’m going to show you the way in which I propose to dress when I go driving into that bad crowd. I had just a few tough experiences to go through when I traveled over this ground with the Steam Man, and on more than one occasion came near losing my hair because I was a prominent mark for bullets and knives. I’m not anything the less prominent now when driving my horse, but I’m well guarded. Look.”
He lifted a beautiful suit of mail from that wonderful, all-containing trunk of his, and held it up to view.
It was a splendidly-made piece of work, every link and part being finished with the greatest care, and they could see at a glance that it was bullet-proof from top to bottom.
“In this,” said Frank, throwing off part of his clothes and beginning to put on his steel attire, “I can defy ordinary weapons, but I must confess to you that some of the lately made rifles on the improved plan send a bullet with such force that I should rather prefer being absent to being brave enough for a test. Tomahawks, knives, and ordinary bullets I laugh at, and a sword would break against my body. This, gentlemen, is my driving suit.”
By this time he had fully covered his body and head with the neat-fitting suit of steel.
A very flexible and finely-polished head-piece protected that portion from any stray bullets, and his blue eyes flashed through the cross-laced bars of his metal visor.
He seemed invincible in this suit of mail, and Barney looked proudly at his boy friend.
“It’s a raw gossoon he may be,” said the Irishman, “but this foine counthry will niver see the fate of him.”