“Beat a retreat,” declared the young inventor. “Come on, Barney!”
“It’s mesilf as hates to retreat,” said Barney, stubbornly. “Oh, if we only had the Steam Man an’ the naygur here now we’d moighty soon turn the thing about.”
The two rescuers now turned about and hastily beat a retreat across the valley.
But they had not gone far when the Indians began to ford the creek for the purpose of giving pursuit.
Barney saw the move and called Frank’s attention to it.
“Be me sowl, Misther Frank!” cried the Irishman, excitedly, “we’ve got to make quick toime, or they’ll have our scalps.”
“You are right, Barney.”
But at that moment Frank Reade, Jr., lifted his gaze, and a mighty cry escaped his lips.
Directly in front of them, a body of armed men swept into the valley.
They were the Vigilants, and at their head rode Harmon. At sight of Frank and Barney they urged their horses on faster with a loud cheer.