Frank Reade and His Steam Horse

by Luis Senarens

As the knives went up in the air, so did Pomp’s hands.

Each one grasped a revolver.

Crack! Crack!

Almost together the reports rang out on the breeze, and the assassins went down to rise no more.

Then the man and the horse plunged swiftly into the ranks of the determined robbers, and steam was shut off.

Pomp, Pedro and Harry Hale leaped to the old folks’ rescue.

They pulled them erect, and then Pedro seized their hands and ran off with them to the village.

Then the rest of our friends piled into the fight in their usual spatter-and-dash style, knocking everything in a reckless manner that was enough to terrify an ordinary foe.

Sinyaro’s sneering laugh rang out loudly when he saw the handful of men opposed to his band.

Indeed, two out of the few were mere boys—Charley Gorse and Frank Reade; but Charley was a regular rough-and-tumble Indian fighter, and our hero was arrayed in his invincible suit of mail.