Harmon made them out as the Black Bear range.
“If they get into those hills with the captives,” he declared, “we’ll have mighty hard work diggin’ ‘em out.”
“Bekase, there’s more holes and out of the way dens there than you could shake a stick at.”
Barney and Pomp crouched down in the wagon, and kept their rifles in readiness for business.
Frank Reade, Jr., watched the plain ahead with eager eye, but though the trail was plain there was yet no signs of overtaking the red foe.
As they drew nearer the hills it became almost a certainty that the savages had sought refuge there.
A long stretch of plain intervened to the hills.
This was easily to be inspected with a glass, and Frank did so. There was no sign whatever of the Indians.
All hope was thus given up of overtaking the redskins before reaching the hills.
It seemed a certainty that they had reached their caves, and the only alternative left was to scour them thoroughly.
But when quite near an entrance between high hills, suddenly the pursuers topped a rise in the prairie and were rewarded with a startling sight.
Just below, in a depression, was the band of savages, seemingly engaged in making camp.
A small creek ran through this depression,
As is well known, Indians always encamp upon the banks of a stream. Yet it was a surprise to the pursuers that they should venture to camp in this open spot.
At sight of their foes the astonished redskins were thrown into a tumult.
Instantly a mad retreat was begun for the mountains.
A wild cheer pealed from the lips of the vigilants.
Harman settled himself in his saddle and shouted:
With a yell the Vigilants put spurs to their horses and made for the Indian encampment.
Frank Reade, Jr., started the Steam Man on a circuit to head off the savages.
“Hi dar, Marse Frank!” cried the darky. “Does yo’ see dat little party ober dar making fo’ de hills?”
“Well, dat am Missy Bessie an’ her lover jes’ as suah as yo’ am bo’n, Marse Frank, an’ dar am half a dozen Injuns jes’ holding onto de bridles ob der hosses. I makes it out, sah, dat dey fink dey kin reach de hills afo’ de Steam Man, sah.”
“By Jupiter, you’re right, Pomp!” cried Frank, with inspiration. “But we’ll try and spoil that little game.”
“Dat’s right, Marse Frank!” cried the darkey. “I jes’ fink de Man kin obertake dem hosses suah enuff.”