“Curse ye, go on up thar and kill the hull crew of ‘em!” he yelled. “Don’t let one of them escape alive! Kill ‘em, every one, and don’t give any quarter!”
“We’ll see about that,” muttered Frank Reade, Jr. “It may not be so easy to do all that, Mr. Cliff.”
Frank and Barney, from their position aboard the Steam Man, could pour a terrible fire into the ranks of the foe.
It was a terrible battle!
The cowboys were mowed down like grain before the sickle; yet they did not waver, but came on faster.
Every moment they drew nearer the top of the rise. If they surrounded it the sequel would be brief.
Overpowering muscles would quickly tell the story, and the little band of vigilants would be wiped out of existence.
It was, without doubt, Cliff’s purpose to give no quarter. A wholesale massacre would be the result.
The Vigilants were now fighting for their lives. As well die facing the foe as with back turned. Every man was resolute in this.
But the tremendous body of men swept over the rise and gained the plateau. In a twinkling the Vigilants were surrounded, and it seemed as if no power would intervene to save them from sure and total extinction.