In vain Clark tried to eject them from their position. His bravest efforts met with failure.
The intrepid colonel knew that if he could get the foe into the open he could hope to whip them.
But as it was it looked certainly as if his plucky little band would be badly decimated in the accomplishment of the desired end.
In this quandary Frank Reade, Jr., appeared upon the spot.
The young inventor had borrowed a horse of one of the vigilants and rode up to see how the fight was going on.
“Well, colonel,” he said, greeting Clark, “how are you making out?”
“Not as well as I could desire,” replied the colonel in a dejected manner.
“What is the matter?”
“Why, I can’t drive the rascals.”
“Why not?”