Ranch V was a thing of the past.
Not a stick was left standing, and of the cowboy gang fully a hundred had rendered up their final account.
Possibly twenty of the cavalrymen had been killed.
It had been quite a severe battle, but Frank Reade, Jr., and his companions could not help but feel overjoyed at the result.
Barney and Pomp had an old time set-to over the victory, this time Pomp coming off victorious.
The night was passed quietly. Early the next morning a surgeon came to the Steam Man and called for Frank.
He announced that Cliff was dying, and wanted to make a confession but would make it to nobody else.
Frank hurried to the dying couch of the villain. Cliff’s filmy gaze was fixed upon him eagerly, and he said, huskily:
“Reade, I’m done for. I made a good fight but I’ve lost. The game’s up. I might as well make a clean breast of it. Uncle Jim is innocent of Rodman’s death. Sid Bowen and Jim Ducey, my trusted pals, killed Rodman and worked the whole game. That’s all. I reckon I can die better now.”
“You have done a good deed, Artemus Cliff,” said Frank, kindly. “And may God forgive you your sins.”