But they had not proceeded a hundred yards into the pass when one of the advance scouts came rushing back and gave a thrilling report.
“Ther cowboys are coming up ther pass!” he cried. “Thar’s a host of ‘em, and Art Cliff is at the head of ‘em.”
“The cowboys!” gasped Harmon.
The greatest excitement ensued.
“My soul!” exclaimed Frank Reade, Jr., in dismay. “Clark has been defeated!”
“Bad luck to the omadhouns!”
“But what of Pomp?” exclaimed Frank with alarm. “Barney, we ought at once to ascertain where he is.”
“To be shure, Misther Frank,” agreed the Celt, “but how in the name av all the saints are yez goin’ to do it? Be jabers, these cowboys have got us cornered.”
In a very few moments a large sized battle was in progress in the pass.