It, the tomahawk, struck heavily upon one of the reins running to the nostrils of the Steam Horse, and like lightning up came one fore foot, and also one of the hind feet.
As has already been explained, the power was equally divided in the Steam Horse’s nose to allow of his being steered by the application of a well-known principle discovered in human limbs, and when the tomahawk struck with immense force against one rein it let on great power in one side only of the iron monster, and away he went in a big circle, tearing round and constantly narrowing the immense ring from the fact that the ground he ran on was slightly uneven.
His flying fore foot struck down one of the men as the rascal was about to creep upon the unconscious young inventor.
The iron spikes crashed through the villain’s brain, stretching him dead upon the plain, killed by the wonderful Steam Horse.
Away tore the iron fiend through the crowded ranks, and both sides were threatened with death.
“Back to the rocks!” roared Jared Dwight, just as Frank Reade picked himself up from the ground and gazed wonderingly around him. “Keep inside the pass.”
The emigrants obeyed, but three of their number were knocked down before they could elude the horse.
The Indians ran, yelling and shrieking, from the spot, scared to death by the odd affair; for without a driver on the seat, it appeared as though the iron steed knew what he was doing when he struck them down with his spiked hoofs.
The white outlaws were no more inclined to stop than their red allies, for their heads were threatened, and they could not strike back with effect at this odd enemy.
They hastily caught what horses they could in a pell-mell sort of manner, and, partly mounted and partly on foot, they dashed away.