Pomp, left alone with the Steam Man, was in a by no means easy frame of mind.

The darky had a singular foreboding that no good would come of the expedition of Frank and Barney.

“I jes’ finks dey oughter hab stayed yer,” he muttered, “but, ob co’se, it was no manner ob use fo’ me to tell Frank Reade, Jr., dat.”

Time passed, and the darky looked anxiously for the return of his friends.

But, for reasons well known to the reader, they came not.

Finally the shadows of night began to settle down thick and fast, and Pomp grew very nervous.

“Golly, I jes’ wish dey would hab some little respect fo’ dis chile’s feelin’s an’ come back,” he muttered.

At length Pomp’s attention was claimed by a thrilling sight.

Down the mountain side he suddenly saw two huge grizzlies advancing.

They had evidently sighted the Steam Man, and were coming directly for it.

Without doubt they were wondering in their bear minds what manner of intruder this was, and had come down the mountain to investigate.

Pomp watched them with some degree of interest.

He knew that he was safe enough in the cage and could do this with impunity. Therefore he chuckled to himself.

“I jes’ fink dem b’ars fink dey am some big stuff,” he muttered, “but dey am a flea bite ’longside ob de Steam Man.”

In one sense this was true enough.

The Steam Man, however, hardly stood higher than one of the brutes, who was a perfect monster.

The bears came down the mountain boldly and straight toward the Steam Man.

Pomp watched them curiously.

One of them began sniffing the air and both came to a halt twenty feet distant.

For a moment they sniffed the air thus, then the largest rose upon his hind feet and let out a roar that made the air tremble.

Straight toward the Steam Man he came.

He was not five feet from the Steam Man when mischievous Pomp unable to restrain himself, pulled the whistle valve.

A terrific shriek went up on the air.

It was deafening in its force and the effect was ludicrous in the extreme.

The big grizzly fell backward as if shot and turned a complete somersault.

He rolled over and over in a heap and both bears went a safe distance up the mountain side.

There they paused and began to roar and growl furiously and tear up the ground with their claws.

Pomp nearly split his sides with laughter.

It was to him the funniest thing he had seen for many a day.

“Golly, I jes’ reckon dat was one very much s’prised bear,” he cried, hilariously. “I jes’ fink he don’ want no paht ob de Steam Man any more.”

But in this surmise Pomp was wrong.

The two bears had again begun to advance down the mountain side.

They advanced cautiously, taking much time and sniffing the air suspiciously as before.

They took a detour, and both approached the Steam Man from the side.

Steadily, cautiously they approached. Again Pomp pulled the valve.

As the Steam Man’s whistle went up on the air both bears went tumbling back somersaults.

They retreated some yards, but recovered and advanced again to the attack.

This time they manifested less fear to the whistle, standing their ground.

Pomp saw that the crisis had come, and he picked up his repeating rifle.

With quick aim he pulled the trigger. One of the bears received a bullet in the shoulder.

But the wound only brought a maddened roar from the brute.

Rearing upon its hind legs it made an attempt to rush upon the Steam Man.

Throwing its arms about the Man the bear proceeded to give him a hug.

But it was not of long duration.

The bear’s teeth failed to penetrate the Man’s iron armor, and the hot iron burned into the bear’s flesh.

The air was instantly filled with the smoke and aroma of burning hair and bear meat.

With a howl of agony the bear recoiled and began scratching its belly furiously with its forward paws.

Angered, it dealt the Man a terrific blow, and Pomp saw that the crisis had come.

He threw another cartridge into the breech of his rifle and took aim.

The brute’s eye was within range.

Pomp’s aim was deadly, and the big brute went to the ground in a heap with a bullet in the brain.

The other grizzly seemed even more plucky than his mate.

He rushed upon the Steam Man and essayed to hug him.

But Pomp began to fear that some harm might be done the mechanism of the Man.

So he started the Man ahead a few feet, then took almost point-blank aim and drove a bullet into the bear’s vitals.

The brute rolled over in the throes of death.

The contest was terminated then and there. Pomp was the victor.

The darky naturally felt a bit elated to think that he had slain two grizzlies with so little exertion.

“Sakes alibe, what will Marse Frank say to dat when he comes back?” muttered Pomp. “I fink he will hab dem critters’ skins fo’ his house in Readestown.”

Pomp even thought of attempting to skin the bears himself.

But a fresh emergency at that moment claimed his attention and he was unable to do so.

In pulling the whistle valve of the Man it had not occurred to Pomp that any serious result could accrue therefrom.

But as it happened, it was the certain way of letting his foes know of his presence in the vicinity.

A roving party of the greasers, ten in number, had heard the whistle.

At once they decided to descend upon the invention and if possible capture it.

They bore down upon the spot full sail, and Pomp’s first apprisal of their presence was in the shape of a loud shout as the party swung into view from behind the clump of trees below.

In an instant Pomp was at the dasher and the throttle rein.

He saw at a glance the deadly peril which threatened.

“Heavens!” he gasped. “I beliebe dat de rapscallions heerd dat ar whistle. I’d oughter know’d better.”

The greasers saw that there was only one man aboard the Steam Man.

This was enough for them, and they made a full charge upon it.

Pomp saw that his only salvation was in retreat, so he swung the Man about and pulled wide the throttle.

The Man started to rush out upon the plain.

But the horses of the greasers were alongside, and one of them reached over and pulled the throttle rein.

In an instant the throttle was closed.

The Steam Man came to a halt.

He still held the rein, shouting to his comrades to board the wagon. Pomp pulled the cord in vain to reopen the throttle.

Finding he was unable to do this, he picked up a rifle and would have drawn a bead upon the fellow but for an incident which occurred to prevent.

The door of the cage was suddenly hurled open.

It had been left unlocked, and a greaser sprang into the wagon.

Another was behind him, but Pomp fired at the first one.

The bullet missed the fellow’s skull.

“Caramba!” he gritted, rushing upon the darky.

The pistol was dashed from Pomp’s grasp, and he was wrestling the next moment with his foe.

Pomp knew that it was a desperate situation, and he fought savagely.

But two more of the greasers were quickly in the wagon.

In less time than it takes to tell it Pomp was overpowered.

The darky was held firmly, while one of the greasers searched for a rope.

Finding it, Pomp was securely bound. The greasers seemed more than excited over their capture.

They jabbered and gesticulated in a very excited manner.

Poor Pomp was beside himself with chagrin and desperation.

“Sakes alibe!” he muttered, despairingly. “Whatebber will Marse Frank an’ de oders say when dey come back an’ don’ fin’ de Steam Man here any more?”

The ten greasers crowded about the Steam Man and began to examine it.

It was evident that they did not know how it worked for they did not attempt to operate it.

Pomp volunteered no information. At opportune moments he writhed in his bonds trying to break them.

The greasers in vain tried to discover the method of operating the Steam Man.

One of them did pull the throttle rein but it had got tangled about the indicator and did not open the valve.

They continued to gesticulate and jabber until long after dark.

At length, having seemingly failed to understand the mechanism of the Man, they made a peculiar move.

Pomp was bound hand and foot and left in the bottom of the wagon.

The captors then closed and secured the door in the cage and went away.

Pomp was much mystified at these proceedings. But he drew a natural inference in regard to them.

He concluded that the greasers had decided to go to camp and report their find and capture.

They would then return with a man who thoroughly understood working a steam engine.

Having decided that this was their move, Pomp at once began to exert himself to gain his freedom.

If he could succeed in doing so before they returned, he could turn the tables upon them cleverly.

With great exertions he worked away at his bonds.

Suddenly he got one wrist free. This was a life and he felt encouraged.

With one wrist freed, he went at once to work upon the lariat which bound his feet.

It was but a moment’s work to reach for a knife in a locker near and sever the bonds.

Thus freed, he sprang upon his feet. The night was dark as pitch, but this did not matter to Pomp.

“Golly, I’ll bet dey don’ cotch dis chile dat way ag’in,” he declared, sententiously.

Then he opened the throttle and sent the Steam Man flying out upon the plain.