Luis Senarens

“ One of the gang, a short, thickset fellow with lowering eyes and a brutish cast of countenance, advanced.
“Wall, what have you two pilgrims got to say for yourselves?”
Frank Reade, Jr., knew instinctively that this was the ruffian, Bert Mason, and he eyed him coolly.
“I have nothing to say for myself,” he replied, coldly.
“Ye haven’t, eh?”
“I said so.”
Mason glared savagely at the young inventor and hissed:
“So ye’re the chap whom they call Frank Reade, Jr., the inventor, eh?”
“That is my name!”
“Ye’re the man what owns that wonderful Steam Hoss?”
“I am the man.” ”

“ But Frank took Captain Elmo to the verge of the plateau and said:
“I told you that I would explain my theory to you to-night. If you will look closely you will see that those curious balls of light dancing up from the ground exist only in sections.”
“I do observe that fact,” agreed Captain Elmo.
“Very good. Now the noxious gas which overcomes one in crossing the valley comes only from those spots. Wherever those balls of light are not to be seen there is no gas, and it is consequently safe to travel.” ”

“ As well as Barney could determine they were torches.
A chill struck the brave Celt.
What did it mean?
Were there more of the foe in front? If so, they were literally hemmed in.
This would mean a serious matter, and the Celt’s grip tightened on the handle of the brake.
“Bejabers, I wondher phwativer it is?” he muttered.
Certainly there was a band of men in front of them.
The glare of torches could be seen, and the dim outlines of horses and men in the gloom.
Barney saw no way to turn out.
To come to a stop would have been to allow the Comanches to descend upon the Horse. ”

“ Suddenly Barney dropped his fiddle and sprung up.
“Be me sowl, the divils are all about us!” he roared. “Shure, ye kin see their forms iverywhere!”
At the same moment a flight of arrows came rattling against the metal body of the wagon.
In an instant Frank was upon his feet. The gloom was broken with the headlight of the Steam Horse now, and the foe could be plainly seen. ”

“ Barney brought out his fiddle and Pomp the banjo.
They played lively tunes and sang to the keen enjoyment of the old trapper, Beaver Bill.
“Wall, by mighty!” roared the old woodsman, “that does jest take ther pancake. I never heern anythin’ better nor that in me life.”
“Did yez niver dance a jig?” cried Barney. “Shure, here’s the jig the Kilkenny piper danced himself to death over.”
With this, the Celt set up a rollicking air on the fiddle which was more meritorious in jingle than measure. ”

“ The trapper was thoughtful.
“Wall,” he muttered after a time. “I reckon you’ve heard of Satan’s Hole?”
“No,” replied Frank.
“Sho! Wall there is where he an’ his party likely is.”
“What sort of a place is it?”
Beaver Bill shrugged his shoulders.
“I don’t imagine him nor his pals are in ther hole,” he said, “for no man kin live thar any great length of time. But it was said that thar was a big gold mine jest at ther entrance to Satan’s Hole.” ”

“ It is only where you see the balls of fire that any of the deadly gas is to be found.”
“Wall,” said Bill, slowly, “what ar ye drivin’ at?”
“I am trying to demonstrate my belief that at night a man can safely cross that valley by keeping out of the way of those balls of fire which are a guide to one. Of course, in the daytime, one does not see the gas, and sooner or later must walk into it and be overcome.”
The trapper was now deeply impressed with the logic of Frank’s remarks. ”

“ The Steam Horse was the pattern of an ordinary equine done in steel. The body was made of steel plates, ingeniously fastened with various joints and bosses.
It is easy enough to make the likeness of a horse thus, but to make it mechanical, to gallop and display other evidences of life, is by no means so easy.
Frank Reade, Jr., realized this, but he was not one to be baffled in a given undertaking.
He was some while in studying out the problem.
But it came at last.
Of course, to go with the Horse there must be a wagon.
But first Frank designed the mechanism of the Horse. ”

“ If Barney had not seen the cliff just in time they would certainly have dashed full into the cliff.
This no doubt would have damaged the Steam Horse greatly if not destroyed it entirely.
“A lucky escape!” cried Frank, “but where in the world are we, Barney? I saw nothing of any elevation when we camped last night.”
“Shure, sor, we’ve cum a good ways,” declared Barney.
“We must have. Is this the base of some high hill, or——”
“Shure it’s in a canyon I think we are, sor!” cried Barney. “Don’t yez see that there be walls all about av us?” ”

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“ It’s a deep valley two miles long and hemmed all in by high walls of rock.”
[Pg 7]
“In ther centre of that valley thar’s nuggets mixed with the sand, pure gold, and lots go into the valley but never come out. Ther gold tempts ’em.”
“What is the trouble?” asked Frank. “Why cannot a man live in the valley?”
“Ugh!” grunted the trapper, “thar’s a powerful reason why. Satan’s Hole is as hot as Hades, an’ thar’s powerful gases come up out of the ground an’ overcomes one. Thar’s a trail across that valley strewn with corpses, an’ it is called the Sandy Trail of Death.” ”

“ The Steam Horse went ahead at quite a rapid gait.
Beaver Bill’s pony followed on behind at a rapid gallop.
The trained animal would at intervals lift its head and neigh shrilly.
“I tell ye, I’m proud of that leetle hoss,” declared the trapper. “He mayn’t be able to jog quite so fast as yer Steam Hoss, but he knows a heap an’ I kin tell yer he’s bin in many a hot scrimmage with me an’ many a time but fer the leetle chap I’d never hev got through.”
“Indeed!” said Frank. “I should think you would be much attached to him.” ”

“ Well, I think I do. You are all a pack of counterfeiters and rascals; but that’s all right. I’ll not trouble you if Mr. Bert Mason will do me a favor.”
“What’s that?”
“Well, I will explain. Up in Silver City there is a poor chap named Benjamin Astley, who is under sentence of death. It is believed that he is identical with Bert Mason and that he is guilty of the murder of Clem Johnson. Now, if Bert Mason will do the right thing and clear that poor fellow, that is all that I will ask.” ”

“ So it’s Bert Mason ye’re lookin’ fer, eh?”
“Yes.”
“Wall, that’s strange.”
“Do you know him?” asked Frank eagerly.
“Wall, I should say so!”
“Where is he now?” asked the young inventor excitedly.
“Wall, that’s not so easy to say,” replied the trapper, with a drawl. “I ’low he was at Lone Trail when I wuz down thar this winter.”
“Can you swear to that?”
Beaver Bill looked surprised.
“In course I kin.”
“Then you are just the man I want. If you will go to Silver City and swear to that you will save Benjamin Astley from the scaffold.” ”

“ Of a sudden the whooping and yelling ceased, and the savages disappeared.
Nothing more was seen or heard of them for a time.
Frank was not a little surprised and puzzled.
“I wonder what game they are up to now?” he muttered. “I think we will keep a sharp look out.” ”

“ Bill Swazey the hunter was unable to understand the phenomenon.
“Great bars!” he gasped, “thar ain’t much doubt about this place being ther abode of the devil is ther?”
“I think there is a good deal of doubt,” replied Frank.
The trapper was astonished.
“Eh!” he rejoined. “Praps’ ye kin account for thim devilish balls av fire.”
“Of course I can.”
“What mought they be?”
“It is a peculiar characteristic of that sort of gas, that it is visible to the eye at night in this form. You have heard of the light of the Jack-o’-lantern or will-o’-the-wisp?” ”

“ Now those cunning rascals of counterfeiters are aware of the fact and cross the valley with impunity at any time of night.”
“But—but what of the nuggets of gold which are said to tempt the unwary into the place? If they were able to enter and close the valley, why should Mason and his gang need to manufacture counterfeit money?”
Frank snapped his fingers.
“That for the nuggets of gold!” he declared. “Ten to one they are worthless iron pyrites. But we will investigate that later. Ah! ”

“ This was to the top of the high walls of the pass.
“Well,” he said curtly, “what are you driving at, Barney?”
“Shure, sor, if yez will give me the lave, I’ll climb up there an’ roll down big stones on the head av the rascals an’ fire many a good shot at thim, too. Av I don’t make it too hot for thim to sthay in the pass then me name ain’ O’Shea.”
A glad cry burst from Frank’s lips.
He saw the feasibility of the plan at once.
“Good for you, Barney!” he cried. “It takes an Irishman to solve a riddle after all. You are a brick!”
“Shure I’m not a Mick, sor, savin’ yer presence!” protested Barney. ”

“ The trapper shook his head slowly.
“That ain’t so!” he declared. “Ye’ll find that ye’re in a level valley with hills all around ye when ye get in there.”
Frank gazed long and critically at the point in question.
“And you say that Mason and his gang are located there?”
“The best I kin make out.”
“All right,” declared Frank. “We’ll soon find out what kind of a place it is.”
The Steam Horse now was sent forward rapidly.
Beaver Bill’s pony seemed to be getting exhausted.
It was now a question as to what to do. But the trapper solved the question.
“I’ll tell ye what to do,” he declared. ”

“ At sight of him Frank closed the throttle and brought the Steam Horse to a halt.
“Where is my long distance glass?” he asked Barney.
The Celt produced it quickly.
Frank brought it to bear upon the distant rider.
For a moment he scrutinized him closely. Barney and Pomp were eagerly waiting the decision.
“Shure, an’ phwat do yez make av him, Misther Frank?” asked Barney.
“Well, he is a strange-looking character,” replied Frank, “but he is certainly a white man.”
“Golly! dat am joyful news!” cried Pomp. “It will seem jes’ glad fo’ to see a white man once moh.” ”

“ As for Barney, he was turning somersaults in the sand, and fairly killing himself with laughter.
“Begorra, that’s the funniest I iver seen in me loife yit!” he roared. “Shure, the fools are not all dead yit, on me sowl!”
“Ki—yi—huh! Golly massy sakes! I’se mos’ dead, yes I is. Gorramighty, I jes’ kill yo’ fo’ dat, I’ish!”
Pomp, now recovered, made a dash out of the wagon for Barney. ”

“ There were two expert shots in the party, Bert Mason and Sid Powell.
“A wager was made as to which one could hit the buffalo. It was arranged that both should shoot at the same time, using marked bullets.
“The bullet nearest the buffalo’s heart should belong to the winner.
“The trick was quickly made, the stakes put up, and both men fired.
“The supposed buffalo leaped in the air with a wild yell of pain and fell to the ground, while a mule cantered away up the canyon. ”

“ Yet the evidence would look to be purely circumstantial, and an innocent man may suffer for the crime.”
Frank Reade, Jr., had become deeply interested in the complex case.
“That man is innocent!” he declared, with firm conviction. “It is too bad to hang him upon such evidence.”
“Bejabers, I believe yez are roight, sor!” agreed Barney O’Shea.
“I done fink dat man am de victim ob cirkumstances!” declared Pomp, sagely.
“The real murderer Mason is no doubt at large now,” cried Frank. “I declare he ought to be found.” ”

“ They are too many for us. The U. S. authorities should be notified and the troops from some fort near here should come to our aid.”
Beaver Bill nodded his head.
“Kerect, pard!” he affirmed. “And I kin tell ye jest where ter find ther sogers.”
“Where?” asked Frank, eagerly.
“Thar’s a hull detachment of ’em up here a ways on Blind river. They’re doing some government surveys, I reckon.”
“Enough!” exclaimed Frank. “Let us back to the Steam Horse. I will send Barney and Pomp after them immediately.” ”

“ Beaver Bill they call me up in ther Powden river kentry an’ I’m a trapper.”
“If that is so, what are you doing away down here?” asked Frank, in amazement.
“Eh?” exclaimed the trapper, with a start. “Ye don’t seem to onderstand. This is the trapper’s highway along yer. Thar’s fully a hundred of us goes up an’ down over this trail in the seasons. When trapping season is ended we generally all pilgrimate to Arizony or some warmer locality. Then we go back when fur is in season agin. See?” ”

“ Many worthy people have lost their lives in that death trap.”
“There should be a notice warning people of the danger.”
“The senor is right!”
Castrello had now reined his horse up quite near to the wagon.
Frank who was a keen student of human nature was doing his best to size the fellow up.
As far as he could see, he was a gay type of the Mexican sport, fond of cards and wine and women. ”

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