Artemus Cliff shouted in evil glee and triumph as he manipulated the Steam Man and let him out for a swift run across the prairie.

He amused himself by racing with his followers who were on horseback.

“By jingo!” he roared, “this is more fun than I ever had before. Why this beats the steam-cars all to smash. And it’s all mine. Why I can travel like a prince now. Ha-ha-ha! I’m the luckiest man on earth.”

He turned and fixed a glowering gaze upon Bessie Rodman.

“And ye’re mine too,” he cried, “the lily of the prairie. The happy life companion of Artemus Cliff. When I get my hands onto Uncle Jim Travers’ millions, we’ll travel the world over, my daisy.”

Bessie did not appear to heed his words, though her face increased a trifle in its pallor.

“Monster!” cried Frank Reade, Jr., with intensity. “You will never succeed. Heaven will not permit it.”

“Heaven don’t have much to do with me,” cried the villain, with a lurid oath. “The devil has been a good friend of mine, and I ain’t afraid of his place either.”

“Begorra, they wudn’t have ye even there,” cried Barney. “Yez are too wicked for avin that place.”

“Oh, ho, Irish, you’ve got your tongue, eh?” cried Cliff, with a vicious laugh. “So ye think I’m too bad, eh?”

“Be me sowl, thar cudn’t be a place too bad for yez!”

“I’ll have a nice little hades fixed fer yer right on this earth an’ I’ll give ye a fair taste of it in advance, too,” said the villain, vengefully.

“Arrah, yez can’t scare me at all, at all,” he retorted. “Yer threats are jist the same as a puppy dog’s bark.”

“You’ll find that I’m the kind of a dog that bites,” averred the villain.

“It’s not me that cares fer yer bites.”

“We’ll see about that. Don’t blow your horn too soon.”

“Begorra, that’s good advice fer yersilf, ye blatherskite! Av I on’y had me two hands to use now I’d baste the rascality out av yez or I’d make a good job fer ther undhertaker.”

“Talk is cheap,” sneered the villain. “Ye’d better save yer wind.”

“It’s yersilf as nades it most,” said Barney, bound to have the last word.

Cliff evidently found Barney’s tongue equal to his own, for he abandoned the conversation in a sullen fashion.

Bessie Rodman made no attempt at speech.

She sat silently in one corner of the wagon.

Frank Reade, Jr., also remained silent.

The twenty miles were quickly covered by the Steam Man. It was yet far from the noon hour when they arrived at the camp of the previous night.

The cowboys in full force were there, and as Cliff appeared with the Steam Man, they made the welkin ring with yells of delight and satisfaction.

All crowded around to examine the steam wonder and inspect its mechanism.

The prisoners looked out upon a sea of faces. They were not kindly regarded by the cowboys.

“Take ‘em out and shoot ‘em, Cliff!” cried a voice in the crowd.

“Give ‘em twenty paces and a grave seven feet deep.”

But Cliff refused to do this.

“Leave it to me!” he cried. “I’ve got a better plan.”

“What is it?” was the cry.

“I want ye all to be ready in half an hour to go into the hills an’ corner Harmon an’ his gang. There must not one of the vigilants go out of here alive.”

“Hurrah!” yelled the cowboys.

“We can give them the worst thrashin’ they ever had.”

“Of course we can.”

“In regard to these prisoners, the gal is going to be my wife. The others I’m going to have some fun with down to the ranch. We’ll have a rabbit chase with ‘em, or something of the kind.”

“Good!” yelled the mob, carried away with the plan.

Thus the fate of the prisoners was decided by their captors. But the question of attack upon the vigilants was now the one in order.

Preparations were at once made for cornering Harmon and his heroic little band.

Several parties of cowboys were dispatched to head off any possible attempt at escape from the hills.

Harmon’s men were certainly hemmed in on all sides, and it was a most dubious outlook for them.

The exultation of the cowboys was beyond expression.

“We’ve got ‘em dead sure!” cried Cliff, triumphantly. “Not a one on ‘em can possibly escape.”

The cowboys now began to close the line in about their prey.

A pass was found through which the Steam Man was taken, and to a point within easy range of the position held by the Vigilants.

Harmon had chosen an elevated position on a kind of small tableland or plateau.

Here behind bowlders he had concentrated his forces. The position was not a bad one to defend.

To charge upon it the cowboys would have to ascend a height of fifty feet or more in the face of a strong fire.

But this sacrifice of men Cliff did not intend to make, at least not at once.

There were other points of vantage about, which the cowboys quickly took possession of.

From these a desultory fire was kept up with the Vigilants with some loss upon both sides.

But Harmon’s men could not very well withstand any loss whatever. This the cowboys could stand better.

The Steam Man, however, could advance to very close proximity with the Vigilants, and those on board were safe from any shots of retaliation.

This made it bad for Harmon for he had no way of checking this most destructive fire.

It was a most galling thing for Frank Reade, Jr., to remain idle and see his invention used in such a manner.

He groaned aloud with horror and dismay. Barney did the same.

“Oh, if I could only free myself,” declared the young inventor.

“Begorra, I wish I cud do that same,” muttered Barney.

Cliff and the three cowboys with him in the cage were doing their best to shoot every Vigilant who exposed himself.

They were thus so deeply engrossed that they paid no special heed to the prisoners for the time.

Barney, quick-witted Irishman, noted this fact.

At a favorable moment he leaned over and whispered to Frank:

“Bejabers, Misther Frank, I think I know av a way to turn the tables on them blasted omadhouns.”

“The deuce!” gasped Frank. “What is it, Barney?”

“Whisht now an’ work quiet, me gossoon!” whispered Barney. “I’ll lay down ferninst the side here an’ yez kin turn yer wrists toward me mouth an’ me teeth are no good av I don’t cut them in two before so very long.”

Frank experienced a thrill.

“Can you do it, Barney?”

“Av course I kin.”

“But if they see us——”

“They’ll niver do that. Be aisy now, me gossoon, an’ roight on the shelf there there’s a knoife an’ yez kin cut my bonds at the same toime. Thin we kin take care av ther four av thim. I’ll take two mesilf.”

“And I’m good for the other two or I’ll die!” muttered Frank. “All right, Barney, do your best.”

“I will that.”

But at this moment Bessie Rodman leaned forward, and in a soft whisper said:

“Wait! There is a quicker way.”

Frank and Barney were astonished.

“What?” exclaimed the young inventor.

By way of reply Bessie drew both hands from behind her.

They were free. There were livid lines upon the fair wrists, where the cruel throngs had cut in.

But the shapely hands were so small that Bessie had been enabled to slip them through the bonds and free them.

Up to this moment neither Frank nor Barney had looked upon the young girl as more than the ordinary weak woman.

That is to say, they had not given her credit for the amount of nerve she possessed.

But they were given ample evidence of it now.

Quick as a flash, and with commendable resolution, she reached over and seized the knife upon the shelf.

It was but a moment’s work for her to cut Frank’s bonds. As they snapped, the young Inventor took the knife and quickly cut Barney’s.

Their captors were at the loop-holes firing, and had not seen this move.

Nothing could have worked better.

Frank picked up a club, and Barney an iron bar. Nobody can handle a weapon of the sort better than an Irishman.

“Whurroo! bad cess to yez fer a pack av omadhouns,” cried Barney, dealing one of the cowboys a crushing blow on the head.

Before one could think, the iron bar came down upon the head of another. Both sank senseless to the floor of the wagon.

Frank Reade, Jr., had knocked Cliff senseless. Only one of the foe was left, and he was quickly knocked out.

In a twinkling, as it were, the tables were turned.

Barney and Frank Reade, Jr., were now masters of the Steam Man once more. The irrepressible Irishman pulled the whistle valve and sent up a shriek of defiance and triumph.

Then Frank Reade, Jr., swung open the wagon door.

“Throw them out!” he cried; “all but Cliff.”

Barney obeyed the command. The three cowboys were quickly dumped out upon the ground.

But Cliff was allowed to remain. The villain lay insensible in the bottom of the wagon.

Frank was about to bind him, when an imminent peril claiming his immediate attention prevented him.

The cowboys were aware of the turning of the tables in the wagon.

With mad yells they were rushing forward in a body to surround the Steam Man. Unless immediate action was made they would succeed.

Frank knew well the danger of this move.

It would be an easy matter for the cowboys to ruin the invention by a single blow. There was but one way, and that was to beat a retreat.

Barney seized his repeater and began firing into the crowd of cowboys. Frank opened the throttle and sent the Steam Man up the incline toward the stronghold of the vigilants.

Of course the latter had seen and understood all.

They embraced the opportunity to pour a flank fire into the ranks of the cowboys. It was a moment of thrilling sort, but the Steam Man seemed to have the best of it when a thrilling incident happened.