The question was settled at once. All sprung to saddle, and the trail, which was quite plain, was followed.
Across the prairies went the Steam Man, with the Vigilants behind.
Of course their horses could not compete with the Man on a level stretch, but Frank did not try to run away from them.
The Indians bore away to a southwesterly course, and soon a range of hills became visible above the horizon.
Harmon made them out as the Black Bear range.
“If they get into those hills with the captives,” he declared, “we’ll have mighty hard work diggin’ ‘em out.”
“Why?” asked one of his men.
“Bekase, there’s more holes and out of the way dens there than you could shake a stick at.”
Barney and Pomp crouched down in the wagon, and kept their rifles in readiness for business.
Frank Reade, Jr., watched the plain ahead with eager eye, but though the trail was plain there was yet no signs of overtaking the red foe.