“All mine,” he continued, “And this Steam Man, this wonderful invention, is just what I want. I can travel around in great style. Oh, Mr. Frank Reade, Jr., I’ll dance on your grave yet.”
“Monster!” cried Frank, writhing in his bonds. “You’ll never succeed. A righteous God will never permit it.”
The villain gave his men carte blanche to make camp and indulge in a carousal.
They did so until daybreak, and then Cliff stated that it was his purpose to go back to Ranch V.
It did not lake him long to understand the mechanism of the Steam Man.
He quickly found out how to use the throttle reins. He was aided by the fact that he had once been a locomotive engineer.
With the early morning light the start for Ranch V. was made.
And Pomp, wet and shivering and horrified, crouched in the thicket upon the bank of the creek, saw the Steam Man and his friends, all in the power of the foe, take departure.
When they had gone Pomp came out of his hiding-place.
“Golly!” he muttered, with distended eyeballs, “I jes’ fink dis nigger hab done de berry awfulest fing eber known. Dar am only one way fo’ Pomp to sabe his honor, an’ dat am to fix some way to rescue Marse Frank an’ all ob de odders, an’ I’ll do it if I can.”