But for all this, the darky’s fears were even now more for his friends than for himself.
“Golly Massy!” he chattered, shivering like one with the ague. “Whatebber will be de end ob all dis. Yere Ise gwine fo’ to be burned to death, and Marse Frank in de clutches ob dat rascal Cliff, an’ nobody to rescue him. Oh, good Lor’ it am dretful.”
But Pomp was certainly powerless. Higher the brushwood was heaped, and then one of the savages advanced with a torch.
In a moment he had applied it to the pile.
The dry wood burned like tinder. In an instant great flames sprang up.
But they were at the edge of the pile. However, Pomp felt their heat and they would soon reach him.
The poor darky was nearly insane with a frenzy of desperation.
The savages now began a fiendish dance about the pile. They leaped and ran, and swung their tomahawks and made hideous faces at their victim.
But fate had not ordained that this was to be Pomp’s end.
Even while death seemed certain, rescue was close at hand.
Suddenly there smote upon the air the ring of horses’ hoofs, and a quick sharp order, followed by the crash of carbines.
Indians fell in heaps before that volley. A panic resulted and the next moment through the smoke Pomp saw the gleam of uniforms, and knew that a body of United States cavalry had happened upon the spot just in the nick of time.
The darky was beside himself with the realization.
“Sabe me, sogers—sabe Pomp! He am gwine fo’ suah to burn to death ef yo’ don’ sabe him!”
Through the smoke sprang two dismounted soldiers. In a twinkling the burning brush was kicked aside, and Pomp’s bonds were cut.
Then the darky was face to face with a tall, handsome young officer.
The Indians had been dispersed and the fight was over.
“I am Col. Clark, of the United States Seventh Cavalry,” said the young officer. “Who are you?”
“I am Pomp!” was the darky’s prompt reply.
“I belongs to Marse Frank Reade, Jr.,” replied Pomp, with emphasis. “I’se a free nigger, but I goes wherebber Marse Frank goes jest de same.”
“Oh, I see,” replied the officer; “well, where is your master just now?”
“Golly, for goodness!” cried Pomp, excitedly. “He am in a heap ob trubble, an’ yo’ kin help him out of it.”
With this Pomp told Clark all about the Steam Man and their mission in the West.