Just at that moment when utter destruction threatened the brave little band of vigilants the U. S. soldiers came upon the scene.
Nothing could have been more opportune.
It was the saving of the day. The emotions of all at sight of the glittering uniforms may be imagined.
A great shout of triumph went up. A yell of dismay came from the cowboys.
Then followed the rattling of steel and the flash of sabre blades. Before that charge what force could stand?
Backward the followers of Artemus Cliff were forced.
In vain the villain tried to rally them. They would not respond.
The odds were too great and they broke and fled in wild confusion. The next moment Pomp dashed up the incline and dropped from his horse almost at Frank Reade, Jr’s, feet.
“Bress de Lor’, Marse Frank,” he cried ecstatically. “Yo’ am alibe an’ well, an’ dis nigger hab brought yo’ a rescue aftah all. P’raps yo’ forgib me fo’ leabin’ de Steam Man when I hadn’t ought?”
“You are forgiven, Pomp!” cried Frank, lightly. “I might have done the same thing myself. I am glad no harm came to you. I had given you up.”