“God bless ye, Mr. Reade!” cried the whole-souled plainsman. “It’s like takin’ the paw of one brought back from the dead. Dogdast it, but I’d given ye up entirely when I see that your Steam Man was in the hands or that coyote. It’s all like a kind of miracle.”
“I think we may congratulate ourselves,” said Frank, “but do you know that we are in a tight box?”
“Nobody knows it better,” declared Harmon.
“I doubt if we pull out of it.”
“What kin we do?”
“Is there no avenue open for retreat?” asked Frank.
“Not a one.”
“Then we can only stay here and fight to the last. Of course I might be able to elude them with the Steam Man, but I’d never try that while any of your band are left.”
“P’raps it would be ther best way.” said Harmon, generously. “At least you could save the gal. It don’t matter so much about us. We’re only rough men, and not a one of us afeared to die.”
“You are heroes!” cried Frank, with fervor, “and if I should desert you, I would forswear my honor as a man. No, the Steam Man, will stay here and fight for you until the last, depend on it.”