“Yes.”
“I think when I do return home that I’ll try to use my wits and my money in trying to get up a flying machine, or else a vessel that can travel under the water. But just now I’m going further West in search of the very wildest adventures.”
“And I’m wid ye,” said Barney Shea, “for fun, foightin’, fiddlin’, frolickin’, and what may turn up.”
“I go with you,” said Charley; “and with the man and the horse we’ll manage to raise Cain.”
“Dis chile goes wid de party,” said Pomp, his little eyes twinkling. “Yer am all under dis chicken’s pertection, and don’t yer forget dat nudder.”
“Fire the den!” said Harry Hale, and then the torch was applied and the haunt of the counterfeiting gang was given up to the grasp of the fire king.
Then, with many hand-shakings and good wishes on all sides, these three old and tried companions in danger parted, Hale’s party and the prisoners going East, and the Steam Horse and the Steam Man dashing off with iron feet to the far West, ready for fun, fighting or rescue; the darkey, with fine voice and tinkling banjo, keeping time to Barney Shea as he scraped away on the old violin.
We pause here in our story, leaving our young hero and his friends to pursue their further adventures in the plains of the far West, assured that the bravery and heroism, which has marked their career up till now, will continue to urge them on in the fulfillment of their vow to right the wrong and aid in the triumph of virtue over vice.
[THE END.]