“Shure, I come here wid the Steam Man, an’ Misther Frank Reade, Jr., the worruld-famous invintor.”
A gurgling cry escaped the other’s lips.
“Frank Reade, Jr.?” he gasped. “Do you mean to say that he is near here?”
“Well, I lift him when I fell down into this place.”
“The deuce!” exclaimed the young man, excitedly. “Why, Frank Reade, Jr., is an old friend of mine. I must see him. Look here, what brought him here?”
“Shure, he’s lookin’ for a young man named Tony Buckden who got lost down in this haythin region.”
“Well, is this not luck? Look here, man, I am Tony Buckden——”
Barney threw up his arms.
“The divil yez say?” he exploded, in a hoarse whisper. “Shure, I’d ought to have guessed that, an’ Mr. Frank will be deloighted to see yez.”
“And I shall be delighted to see him!” cried the millionaire’s son, for such he was. “So he answered my letter in person?”