The pursuers were now the pursued.
So it continued until suddenly, by the orders of Cliff, the cowboys turned their horses into the river and forded it.
Once on the other side they were soon beyond the reach of the rifle balls. The Steam Man of course could not follow.
The encounter with the cowboys was at an end.
They did not return to the attack, somewhat singularly, but kept on until the rolling plains hid them from view.
Cliff’s direful threat against the Steam Man and its inventor, had not been carried out. But Frank did not, by any means, delude himself with the belief that the villain would relinquish the attempt so easily.
“Well, Barney,” he cried, cheerily, when satisfied that the scrimmage was over. “We came out of that scrape a little the best of it. It has all turned out as I expected. That Cliff is the real murderer.”
“Begorra, it luks that way, Misther Frank,” agreed Barney.
“So it does. We must plan to capture the villain, and wring a confession from him.”
“Be jabers that’s thrue. If I only had an opportunity I’d pretty quick wring his loon neck for him.”