And this is the letter that made Barney Shea’s eyes sparkle:
“Friend Barney:—How are you Squire Shea? How does your lordship feel? I have met with your cousin, Patrick McSpalten, and he has told me all about your being one of the biggest men in your parts, but he also said that you talked about paying a visit to this land some time, and that’s why I write to you.
“Barney, my rip-snorter, you remember what I said I’d do, don’t you? I said that if it could be done I’d make a horse that should go by steam, and now, old boy, I tell you that I’ve done it.
“I’ve built my horse, and every part is perfect, and there’s no reason why I can’t go whistling over the plains like some rocket on a tear. Oh! what fun I’m going to have with the reds. You bet I’ll wake ’em up at the liveliest rate.
“Now Barney, I want you to come out here to my house in New York, and start with me for the West. My horse is all finished, and, by the time that you get here, I shall have the wagon ready to harness on the animal. Charley Gorse and his Steam Man will travel over the plains with us when we reach the West, and you can have full scope for your fighting tendencies among the reds and the rascally whites. Come out, if only to take a ride behind my Steam Horse, and I’ll promise to raise more rough and tumble rumpusses in one week on the plains than you’ll have in Ireland in a year.
“Ever your friend,
“Frank Reade.”
“Tare an’ ouns,” cried Barney, when he read the letter through, by dint of much study and patient spelling, “did yez iver hear the loikes o’ that now?”
And then, observing that they were all looking at him with surprise, he turned to them, and said:
“Whist, me lads; ye moind that powerful young jaynus I was talking about so often to yez?”
“The gossoon wid the mon that wint be sthame?” asked one.
“That same,” said Barney.
“We moind the lad,” they said.
“Thin moind this,” said Barney. “The young jaynus has been afther invintin’ a harse that goes be sthame.”
“A harse?”