Transcriber’s Notes

Obvious typographical errors have been silently corrected. Variations in hyphenation have been standardised but all other spelling and punctuation remains unchanged.

The table of contents was inserted by the transcriber.

FRANK READE, JR., IN MEXICO.

The Subscription Price of the Frank Reade Library by the year is $2.50: $1.25 per six months, post-paid. Address FRANK TOUSEY, Publisher, 34 and 36 North Moore Street, New York. Box 2730.

FRANK READE, JR., WITH HIS NEW STEAM MAN IN MEXICO;
OR, HOT WORK AMONG THE GREASERS.

By “NONAME,”

Author of “Frank Reade, Jr., With His New Steam Man in Texas; or, Chasing the Train Robbers,” etc., etc.

Table of Contents.

CHAPTER I.
KIDNAPPED BY GREASERS.

Frank Reade, Jr., the inventor of many wonderful machines and whose fame was world wide, sat in his study one day in September looking over a heap of mail matter which the servant had just brought in.

He was a handsome dark complexioned young man with a distingue air and that individuality of appearance which stamps the man of genius.

Frank’s father was a famous inventor before him.

Foremost among Frank Reade, Jr.’s inventions was the New Steam Man, a machine of truly wonderful character.

We will not attempt a description of the Steam Man for certain good reasons until later; first let us give our attention for the moment to the young inventor.

Frank Reade, Jr., was naturally the foremost man in Readestown, a respectable sized and thriving town, founded by and named after the Reades.

Here they had built the wonderful machine shops for the construction of their own machines.

These employed many of the most skilled workers in wood and steel.

Money was not a scarcity with the Reades nor was it ever likely to be, with their superlative genius to make it.

Frank opened one letter after another, hastily read them and placed those on a file which he meant to answer.

Some of them were of importance, some were not, but he encountered none which claimed his attention greatly for some while.

Then a letter lay before him, superscribed in a foreign style, and bearing the stamp and postmark of Mexico.

He opened it with a curious premonition of its importance.

The letter was written in Spanish, but Frank knew the language well, so he read it easily.

Thus it read:

“Senor Reade—Pardon me for addressing you, a stranger, but I am impelled to lay before you a matter of the utmost moment. A gentleman from New York has been sojourning in the city of Laredo for the past year, being interested in a certain mining claim in Los Pueblos Mountains, five hundred miles from here, in the interior of Mexico.

“He has busied himself contracting for men and material to dig a shaft and open a rich gold mine upon his claim. He is a gentleman of means, and I am told a former acquaintance of yours. His name is Harvey Montaine.”

“Harvey Montaine!” repeated Frank. “Indeed, he is a dear friend of mine.”

However, the young inventor continued reading the letter.

“This gentleman has made many friends here in Laredo. Both the Spanish people and the natives like him for his courtly manners and his generous heart.

“But his efforts to open up the Los Pueblos claim have been attended with ill-fortune. It seems that his first expedition was set upon by bandits who infest the region, and who are under the command of Miguel Costello, a noted desperado.

“His men were slaughtered, and he escaped himself by a narrow chance. But Senor Montaine is a gentleman of pluck, and he once more began to plan an excursion to Los Pueblos, when one morning he disappeared.

“From that day to this he has never been seen. A notice has been posted in Laredo, signed by Costello calling for a reward of ten thousand dollars, or Montaine will be slain.

“This reward, or ransom money, was quickly raised here among Senor Montaine’s friends, but the bandit promptly raised the figures to fifty thousand.

“This money cannot be raised, nor is it believed that Costello would release his prisoner for it.

“It is believed by many that this is a subterfuge employed by the bandit to cover his purpose of working the Los Pueblos claim himself.

“It is rumored that he has a large gang of men at work at the mine, and that they are sinking a shaft.

“It may be readily understood that this is a dishonest trick of the villain’s, and the sense of justice of every good man must be aroused. Meanwhile, a deserter front Miguel’s band brings us the story, also a request from Montaine, who begs us to write you to come to his relief with your New Steam Man. We are obeying the dictates of Senor Montaine in writing this letter.

“That you may best follow your own conclusion in granting your friend’s request, we have no doubt that you will appreciate fully his extreme peril.

“This is the case, and in laying it before you, dear senor, we believe that we are but doing our duty as Christian gentlemen. Your answer and decision we await with some impatience and much hope. I have the honor, senor, to faithfully subscribe myself yours,

“Jose Ravello.

“Hotel San Juan, Laredo, Mexico.”

Frank read the letter through carefully. Then he leaned back in his chair.

There was a strange excited light in his fine eyes, and he exclaimed in a musical, but tense voice:

“Poor Montaine! He is one of my best friends. So he is in trouble, eh? Well, I would be inhuman indeed not to respond to his appeal.”

Frank sprang up and put on his hat.

As he left the study he met a colored man in the hall. He was a fat, jolly little darky, and as black as the ace of spades.

“Pomp,” said Frank, sharply.

“What am it, sah?”

“I want you to go with me.”

“A’right, sah.”

The darky followed Frank out of the fine mansion and down to the street.

A few minutes’ walk brought them to the gates of the machine shop yard.

Here they met a jolly-looking Irishman, whose twinkling eyes and broad mug stamped him a genuine son of the Green Isle.

“Barney O’Shea!” said Frank, sharply, “I want you to come with me.”

“All roight, sor!” exclaimed Barney, with great readiness.

The negro and the Irishman were old servitors of Frank Reade, Jr.

They had been in the employ of his father before him, and Frank would never have thought of going upon a trip without them.

Their services were invaluable. Barney being a first-class engineer and steel workman, and Pomp was a fine cook.

Passing through the yard which was filled with workmen, Frank led the way into a private office.

It was here that the plans of all his wonderful machines were draughted in secret.

Frank sat down at a table and threw Senor Ravello’s letter upon it.

“Pomp,” he said, tersely, “get me a map of Mexico.”

“A’right, sah.”

Wondering much what was coming, the darky quickly obeyed.

The map was spread upon the table.

Frank quickly placed his finger upon Laredo. Then he traversed the interior of Mexico to the Los Pueblos Mountains.

“That is it,” he said, theoretically. “It is a long trip, but it can be done.”

Then he turned to Barney:

“Barney,” he asked, sharply, “has that new gauge been put upon the Steam Man?”

“Yis sor,” replied the Celt.

“Good! Is the machine all right every other way?”

“I think so, sor.”

“All right. Now sit down and let me read you this letter.”

The two men sank into chairs and Frank read them the letter from Ravello.

They listened with the deepest interest, and when Frank finished Barney cried eagerly:

“Bad cess to the omadhouns! Shure ye’ll go afther them, Misther Frank?”

“Golly, I jes’ hopes yo’ will, Marse Frank. Dis chile am in it fo’ suah.”

“Then you are ready and willing to go?” asked Frank.

“Yo’ kin jest bet.”

“Yez are roight we are.”

“Of course my sympathies for Montaine are strong,” said Frank; “he is an old and very dear friend of mine.”

“Shure, yez oughter go to his help,” averred Barney.

“Well, I will consider the situation. Let us take a look at the Steam Man.”

All three arose and went into an inner chamber of the factory.

This was a large, high-roofed room. In its center stood the wonderful invention which had made the name of Frank Reade, Jr., famous the world over.

Picture a giant man made of iron plates holding the shafts of a wagon in his hands.

The Man was made of plates of steel hinged at the ankles, knees and hips.

There were driving rods down the legs, showing that the Man’s motive power was steam.

The body of the man made the furnace, and upon its back was the steam chest as well as gauge and indicator.

The tall hat was the smoke-stack, and in the Man’s mouth was the whistle. A headlight was placed in the forehead.

The reservoirs of water were in the Man’s legs and arms, so adjusted that a continual circulation was kept up with the water in the boiler.

Reins extended from the throttle and whistle valves in the Man’s mouth to the dasher of the wagon, and it was by these that the iron monster was guided and driven with the greatest of ease.

This completes the description of the Steam Man.

The wagon was also made of plates of steel, cleverly riveted and bullet proof.

The wagon contained bunkers for coal, also compartments for the safe storage of provisions and ammunition.

Bunks to sleep in were arranged over the coal bunkers.

The wagon was covered entire with a fine netting of bullet proof Steel.

In this netting there were loopholes through which rifles could be fired at an enemy.

A door in the rear of the wagon furnished means of entrance and exit. Once inside this steel cage the inmates were safe from any sort of a missile but a cannon ball.

The Steam Man was certainly a wonderful invention. The four-wheeled wagon with its grooved tires could be hauled across level ground by him faster than the ordinary train of cars.

The Man’s stride was something tremendous. Large sums had been offered Frank for the secret of his invention.

But he would not sell it for many good and sufficient reasons.

CHAPTER II.
EN ROUTE TO MEXICO.

Frank Reade, Jr., made a quick but thorough examination of the Steam Man.

It required but a few moments to satisfy him that Pomp had told the truth.

The Man was all in perfect order and ready for a trip. The famous inventor was much pleased with this realization.

“Well, Barney,” he said, briskly, “you may see to it that the wagon is provided with necessary stores. Pomp, you may look after the arms and ammunition and have everything in readiness at the earliest possible moment. Do you understand?”

“Ay, sor” replied Barney.

“Yes, sah!” said Pomp.

With this Frank turned about and left the shop.

He went at once back to his house.

Here at the door he was met by his wife. Mrs. Reade was a very beautiful and intelligent woman, a fit partner for a man of genius.

“Well, Frank!” she said, with a smile. “I have a premonition that you are up to some new scheme. Am I not right?”

“You are,” replied Frank, with a laugh. “You are a good guesser.”

“I knew it. What—what is it?”

Frank noted the look of anxiety upon his wife’s face and replied:

“You must have no fears. I am quite able to take care of myself. Yes, it is another trip.”

“Oh, Frank, I so fear for your safety!”

“But you must not. With the Steam Man I am quite safe.”

Mrs. Reade did not speak upon the subject further, and like the true wife that she was did not attempt to gainsay her husband’s plans.

Woman-like, though, she dreaded his going upon these expeditions into regions of unexplored wilderness where danger was rife.

But Frank had fully made up his mind to go to Los Pueblos.

He at once sent a messenger to Senor Ravello at Laredo.

It was to this effect:

“Senor Ravello—I shall come to Laredo at an early day. Negotiate with Costello for a ransom to gain time. I shall bring the Steam Man with me, and shall try to rescue my friend Montaine.

“Yours truly,
“Frank Reade, Jr.”

This message was sent over the wires with all dispatch. The report spread that the Steam Man was to go upon a tour to Mexico.

At once public interest as usual was aroused.

The exploits of the young inventor and his wonderful Steam Man always claimed widespread attention.

Letters of congratulation, of inquiry, and of request began to pour in. But Frank had little time to give them heed.

He was very busy for some time fitting up the Man.

But on the fourth day after receiving the letter of Senor Ravello the Steam Man, packed securely in sections, was safely placed aboard a special train.

Frank had decided to take the Steam Man as far as Laredo by rail.

Then he would go from thence to Los Pueblos overland.

Nothing of note occurred during the trip to the Mexican frontier. A few days later after having crossed half of the continent the Rio Grande river was crossed, and the Steam Man and our voyagers were in Mexico.

Immediately upon alighting from the train Frank was met by a tall, fine-looking gentleman.

“I am Senor Ravello,” he said. “I imagine that you are Senor Reade.”

“I am!” replied Frank.

“I am glad to meet you.”

They shook hands and conversed pleasantly for some moments.

It was an early hour in the morning, and Barney and Pomp went at once to work to take the Man from the cars.

It was unloaded in sections, and then with the aid of half a dozen skilled workmen whom Frank had brought along, it was put together.

Quite a crowd of people were at the station to witness this operation.

They were of all classes and many different nations.

Senor Ravello conversed with Frank and watched with interest the reconstruction of the Steam Man.

“Have you heard from Montaine lately?” asked Frank, casually.

“I sent word to Costello by a special messenger, asking him what ransom he would take.”

“Ah!”

“He returned an evasive reply.”

“Indeed!”

“I have, therefore, arrived at the conclusion perforce that he is not desirous of accepting a ransom. His game is to hold Montaine a prisoner while he works the rich Los Pueblos claim.”

“Well,” said Frank, drawing a deep breath, “we will try and spoil that little game for him.”

“I sincerely trust you may, senor.”

It required hardly three hours’ work to put the Steam Man together.

Then the wonderful invention was revealed in its perfection to the admiring crowd of spectators.

They burst into cheers of approval as they realized its wonderful perfection of outline and detail.

But the climax was reached when Barney started the fire in the furnace and quickly got up steam.

The Steam Man was soon puffing and panting ready to go.

Barney gave a couple of sharp blasts with the whistle.

Then Frank Reade, Jr., shook hands with Senor Ravello.

“I shall pray for your good luck,” declared Ravello.

“Thank you!” replied Frank. “I shall hope to rescue Montaine.”

Then he sprang into the cage.

Barney was at the dasher and Pomp was busying himself stowing away things in the bunkers.

Barney opened the throttle and the Steam Man went ahead.

The crowd yelled itself hoarse, the Steam Man whistled, and then was away with ponderous tread out of the town.

Out into the country the voyagers went. Fertile farms and gardens were upon all sides for a number of miles.

It was easy to follow good roads for some distance.

Then the confines of civilization were reached and the unexplored wilds opened up before them.

For two days the Steam Man kept a course to the north-west.

Mexican towns were passed and ranches without number. Rancheros and peons, hunters and cowboys, greasers and half-breeds, all viewed the Steam Man with great wonderment, and some of the ignorant natives with superstition.

But the voyagers were not molested until one evening, after crossing an arid plain, the startling discovery was made that the Steam Man’s boilers were empty.

It was necessary to bank the fires at once and look for a fresh supply.

This it was not easy to find in that locality.

There was not a stream or lake visible anywhere. All was a dry, arid plain.

But two miles distant in the verge of a clump of timber the low roof of an adobe ranch was seen.

It was not known what sort of people lived there, nor with what sort of a reception they might meet.

But it was necessary to have water, and something desperate had got to be done at once.

“There must be water there,” declared Frank. “We will go over there and see at any rate.”

So Barney headed the Man for the distant ranch.

As they approached it, they saw half a score of nondescript men lounging about the place.

They were in the main half-breeds and greasers, and all of a decidedly villainous type.

The Steam Man drew up in the ranch yard. The effect upon the motley crew was most surprising.

Of course this was the first time they had ever gazed upon anything like the Steam Man.

Wonderment and interest were depicted upon their brutish faces as they advanced.

Pomp regarded them askance, and taking a sweeping survey of the place ventured to say:

“Golly! Marse Frank, I don’ jes’ likes de looks of dis place.”

“Begorra, I’m wid yez, naygur!” cried Barney. “Av I’m not mishtaken thim omadhouns will be no frinds to us.”

But Frank did not seem to share this fear.

He busied himself with adjusting the brake, and while thus engaged the greasers crowded about the Steam Man.

One of them lazily puffing a cheroot, ventured to address Frank:

“Buenos, senor! Welcome to Lone Ranch.”

“Thank you!” replied Frank, politely. “Are you the ranchero?”

“Si, senor! Pray dismount and enter. I have some wine which will suit your taste.”

The fellow was a tall, dark-complexioned chap, with long black mustache and eyes of keenest black.

He used good English and was very polite and affable.

Something about the fellow gave Frank a chill of distrust.

But he knew well that in his present position he was much at the mercy of the greasers.

It was impossible for the Steam Man to go further without water.

Frank saw a deep spring near and a plan was suggested to him.

After all, he had no right to distrust the Mexicans as yet.

The ranch might be a respectable place and, at any rate, if he desired to secure any of the water, Frank knew that he must work his cards diplomatically.

So he decided to affect friendship with the greasers, and trust to fortune to accomplish the rest.

“Your offer I will gladly accept,” said Frank, with a flourish. “Your excellent wine already warms my heart.”

“We are always glad to welcome strangers,” said the ranchero, with a peculiar smile, “but this is the first time we have ever seen a locomotive in the shape of a man, and able to run without a track.”

“Indeed!” replied Frank. “Allow me, then, to explain to you the mechanism of the New Steam Man.”

With this, Frank proceeded to illustrate to the greasers the working of the famous invention.

They listened attentively and with deepest interest.

When Frank had concluded, they began a queer sort of jargon, and kept it up in an excited manner.

Frank could not very well understand it, as it was a dialect of the Spanish tongue.

But the ranchero seized Frank’s arm now, and drew him toward the adobe building. The young inventor could not refuse.

CHAPTER III.
THE TREACHEROUS RANCHERO.

“You are my guest, senor,” declared the ranchero. “I shall bewitch you with my wine. There is not better in the Laredo vineyards.”

“Indeed, I am in your debt very deeply, senor,” replied Frank, “but pardon me, but is not that good water in yonder spring?”

“It is; but first the wine.“

“Very well; yet will you allow us to take some of it aboard the Steam Man?”

“Si, senor, with pleasure,” replied the polite ranchero; “take all that you would care to of it.”

Frank turned and motioned to Barney and Pomp.

They took the hint at once and moved the Man up to the spring.

In a few moments they had the hose out and were pumping the water with all haste into the Steam Man’s boilers.

Frank with this followed the ranchero into the adobe building.

In the interior it was scarcely more inviting than outside, but the hospitable ranchero offered Frank a seat.

The young inventor accepted it.

It was a small chair near a window, through which Frank could easily see what was going on in the yard.

“Pardon, senor!” said the ranchero, affably, “but may we not exchange names? I am Don Juan de Casnova.”

“And I am Frank Reade, Jr.”

Frank was sure that the other gave a queer start and changed color a bit. But if so he was quickly recovered.

For smilingly he said:

“Senor Reade, I shall drink to your health.”

Then from a closet near the ranchero produced a quaint old flagon and some silver drinking mugs.

Into this he poured some of the richest wine that Frank had ever seen.

“This is better than pulque, senor,” declared Don Casnova with a smile. “Drink to success.”

“Amen!” said Frank.

He took a draught of the wine. It was rich and gratifying to his taste.

He drained the glass.

“Another, senor,” insisted Casnova.

Frank could not refuse. The wine warmed him and made him feel invigorating.

De Casnova seated himself opposite Frank and opened a conversation.

“Pardon my curiosity, senor,” he said, politely, “but it is a natural question to ask the mission of one traveling across the country as you are. Is it a secret?”

Frank hesitated a moment.

His better sense told him the danger of making a confidant in this wild region.

Acting on impulse, he replied:

“I am out here in quest of a gold claim, near Los Pueblos.”

“Caramba!” exclaimed the ranchero, with a start. “Is it a rich one?”

“It is so reported.”

“I have heard of gold about Los Pueblos, but I have heretofore regarded it as a myth.”

“It has been established a certain fact, I believe.”

“Indeed! I should like to see that claim.”

Frank was silent a moment.

There was a question uppermost in his mind which he desired strongly to ask the other.

But he was in doubt as to the safety of doing it.

Finally, after the conversation had turned upon different topics, he ventured to say:

“Pardon me, senor, but is there in these parts a man named Miguel Costello?”

The ranchero gave a start.

An odd, startled light came into his eyes. But he evinced trepidation only a moment.

“Si, senor,” he replied; “I have heard of him.”

“What sort of a man is he?”

It was a direct question, but Frank believed it the best under the circumstances. The ranchero idly pulled at his cheroot, and gazing at Frank languidly through half-shut eyes, replied:

“Well, senor, I think it not good taste to speak disparagingly of a man’s character. Yet Miguel is so well known that it cannot hurt to tell the truth that he is a bad man.”

“Indeed!”

“In fact, he is an outlaw, and if he had his just deserts would be hung for many a dark crime.”

“Ah!” said Frank, quietly; “perhaps then you can tell me of the unfortunate American, Harvey Montaine, who it is said has fallen into his clutches?”

The ranchero smiled in a peculiar way as he replied slowly:

“Yes, I can tell you all about this affair, for I know Harvey Montaine.”

“Indeed!” exclaimed Frank, unguardedly, “then he is a friend of yours?”

“Well, perhaps so. You know him yourself, I take it?”

“Yes,” replied Frank, “he is a man of honor and of courage. Then the report is true that he was robbed of his claim by Costello?”

“I believe that he and Costello had an argument about a claim,”replied Casnova, quietly; “to which it properly belonged I am not able to say.”

“It belonged to Montaine,” said Frank, decidedly.

“Ah, you know that then, do you?” asked the ranchero, quickly.

Frank’s face flushed. He had spoken too quickly.

“I know that Montaine claimed to own a rich gold claim hereabouts,” he declared, positively. “I have no reason to doubt his words.”

“By no means, senor,” replied Casnova, politely, “but you neglect the wine.”

“I thank you,” replied Frank. “I can drink no more.”

“Allow me to insist, senor. It is a very fine quality.”

“As fine as I ever tasted,” declared Frank; “but I will not drink again.”

De Casnova sat the mug down quietly. There was a queer gleam in his dark eyes as he said:

“Perhaps, senor, I can help you to rescue this Montaine from the villain, Costello. In fact, I have no doubt that I can.”

“I have not intimated such to be my purpose,” said Frank, steadily.

“Ah!” exclaimed the Mexican, lifting his eyebrows. “I see you will not trust me. But rest assured, Senor Reade, that Juan de Casnova is an honorable man.”

“I know nothing to the contrary,” replied Frank.

He was studying a way out of the difficulty.

He felt in some vague way that he was in a complicated position and wished to extricate himself.

He saw through the windows that Pomp and Barney had filled the Steam Man’s boilers and were getting up steam.

Frank at that moment heartily wished himself aboard the Steam Man.

For some reason he felt a strong distrust of Casnova. He realized that he had committed an error in speaking of Montaine or of the Mexican bandit.

Frank knew enough of Mexicans to be aware of the fact that they were exceedingly treacherous and hung together famously.

For aught he knew Casnova was hand in glove with the bandit, and feeling that this was possible Frank’s sensations can well be imagined.

He wished himself far from the spot at that moment.

Indeed, he had already begun to count the chances of reaching the Steam Man alive in case he should make a break.

Casnova’s eyes were upon him intently all the while.

The villain seemed to read his purpose like a printed book.

“You will stop some days with us, Senor Reade,” said the ranchero, smoothly. “You will find that a Mexican knows something of the art of entertaining.”

“I am well aware of that now,” replied Frank. “I will consult with my companions, and if they-—-”

But Casnova made a gesture of impatience.

“Senor need not do that,” he exclaimed; “they are but peons. The senor is assuredly his own master.”