Away they shot over an irregular and somewhat dangerous course.
Swiftly sped the iron feet, and in the course of five minutes the level land of the prairie was reached.
Then swiftly away over the level plain, until a shrill call from Pomp caused both drivers to pull up, and in two minutes’ time they were bending over the bruised and half-senseless form of Pedro, the mustang rider.
“Haste,” he said. “Haste to my village for life or death.”
They took him into the wagon of the Steam Horse, and when they had given him some whisky he told them what was the matter.
“Hurrah!” cried Frank.
“Glory!” yelled Charley.
“You will go?” cried Pedro.
“Go!” shrieked Frank, as he seized the reins. “We’ll be there in time just to chaw ’em up.
“Hooroo!” shouted Barney Shea as the man shot on after the Steam Horse. “What an illigant land for weddin’s an’ wakes.”