Frank Reade stood for a moment in amazement, contemplating the destructive circular course of his invention, and then he made a jump for the madly tearing animal.
He knew that if the thing was to be stopped, he would have to do it.
He leaped up into the wagon, although it was an effort for him to do so, clad as he was in steel, and climbing over the seat, he seized the reins.
In a moment he had the horse fully under control, and then he drove him up to the mouth of the pass.
The fight was over.
The victory had not been for either side, but the emigrants could now leave the terrible pass which had caught them as a trap catches a mouse.
Frank and Jared Dwight marched in silence over the field, with the same idea in their heads, and after looking at the wounded and dead, they both cried:
“Where’s Barney Shea?”