Off sped the gallant beast, watched by the wife of the inventor of the flying machine, and he soon reached the open prairie and urged his steed along at a breakneck pace.
The Frank Reade, Jr., in question was a famous inventor of steam, electrical and mechanical inventions of various kinds.
He had completed building the greatest air-ship he had ever conceived of, and had added a crown to the glory of his great talent.
The inventor was then a mere youth in years, and had as companions on his pleasure trip two tried and trusted friends.
One was a rollicking Irishman, with a good-natured, freckled face, a red head, and a devil-may-care disposition, named Barney.
The other was a short darky, with long arms and a comical face, who answered to the name of Pomp.
The Mexican knew all about the three, as the newspapers of the period frequently referred to them in relation to the journeys they had made together in former inventions which Frank had conceived.
He rode along at a pace that was bound to kill his horse if he maintained it too long, and kept his burning, eager glance fixed upon the sky in expectation of seeing the strange invention.
It was a long ride, and to the rider it seemed to occupy ages.
“I shall—I must see him!” he muttered, desperately, as his mare sped over the broad expanse of prairie. “If Frank Reade, Jr., will do as I ask he shall be rewarded with a treasure which must surpass that of a king. Oh, my poor little boy! He will certainly be sacrificed by the Terror of the Coast if the inventor refuses to aid me in rescuing him!”