Away went the willing men in search of the money, genuine and false, the plates, dies and other things required by the victorious captain.
They found counterfeit money to the great amount of five hundred thousand dollars in bills and coins of various large and small denominations! but what rejoiced the hearts of the seekers was a big pile of genuine bank bills.
These were brought out and laid upon the grass.
“Eureka, spoils,” cried Harry Hale. “I took this job on condition that I was to pay myself with what I could find, and it begins to look as though I am not going money out on the operation. I can give you all liberal pay for your services, my friends, and then have enough for my immediate followers and myself.”
“Well, if you’re through with us we’ll each take a ten spot and bid you good-bye,” said Mustang Max.
“Certainly,” said Hale. “I am through with you, much obliged to you, and am pleased to hand you each a ten spot.”
And the ceremony was performed to the satisfaction of all.
“Good-bye, and take good care of that great boy,” said Max, smiling upon Frank as he leaped into the saddle. “I expect to hear great things of him yet.”
“I’ll look out for him,” said Hale, and then the tall guide waved his hand and rode off at the head of his men, looking like some great proud king of the plains in his strong beauty.
“I think you boy what let poor Indian go when you catch him,” said a voice at Frank Reade’s side.
He turned and looked keenly at the sole Indian, taken with the gang of white counterfeiters.
He recognized him as the red-skin that had been caught and held by his wonderful electric guard when camping two nights before in the grove with the prospecting party.
“Yes,” he said. “I am the boy.”
“Then Indian pay you,” said the copper-colored confederate of the counterfeiters. “You give red man his life.”
“I did,” said Frank.
“Do it with free heart?” asked the red.
“Yes, and I’d do it again,” said Frank. “If I could put a knife in your hand then I’d fight with you, but when you cannot defend yourself I will not strike.”
“Good,” said the red, “you hab heart of Indian. Me like you. Listen.”
Frank bent close.
“Go down to bottom of stairs, smash in de last step with ax, and you find some gold. Dat for you.”
Frank needed no second bidding.
He tore his ax from its rest at the side of the wagon.
“Harry,” he said to Hale, “will you give me what spoils I can find, if they are not plates or dies or anything you need for evidence?”
“Anything,” said Hale. “This victory is all your work.”
“Good-bye,” said Frank. “Here goes for the spoils.”
And away he dashed down the stairs of the den, ax in hand.
He reached the bottom and smashed into the wood.
Crash!
With a reluctant, scraping sound the stairs gave way.
Another blow knocked the wood aside, and then three small bags lay exposed to the boy’s eager gaze.
He threw away his ax and gathered up the bags in his arms, and fairly staggering under the load of gold he managed to walk up the stairs.
“Hurrah!” he yelled, as he staggered across the doorstep and half fell to the ground along with his gold.
“What is it?” cried Charley.
“See,” said Frank.
Charley did so.
He opened the bags and found that they all contained two thousand dollars in shining gold pieces.
Frank was ready to faint with excitement and joy.
“Hold on,” cried Hale. “They may not be good after all.”
He took one in his hand, flipped it from his thumb-nail, and then smilingly gave it back to the anxious boy.
“Good as they make them,” he said. “Frank has got a little fortune.”
“And he’ll know what to do with it,” said the young inventor. “The first thing you know you’ll see me coming out here with a pair of steam mules.”
“Or a jackass, and go braying over the universe,” grinned Hale.
“Or come on top of an elephant, and scare the wits out of the reds,” said Charley Gorse, with a smile. “What do you really think you will do, Frank?”
“Invent?”
“Yes.”
“I think when I do return home that I’ll try to use my wits and my money in trying to get up a flying machine, or else a vessel that can travel under the water. But just now I’m going further West in search of the very wildest adventures.”
“And I’m wid ye,” said Barney Shea, “for fun, foightin’, fiddlin’, frolickin’, and what may turn up.”
“I go with you,” said Charley; “and with the man and the horse we’ll manage to raise Cain.”
“Dis chile goes wid de party,” said Pomp, his little eyes twinkling. “Yer am all under dis chicken’s pertection, and don’t yer forget dat nudder.”
“Fire the den!” said Harry Hale, and then the torch was applied and the haunt of the counterfeiting gang was given up to the grasp of the fire king.
Then, with many hand-shakings and good wishes on all sides, these three old and tried companions in danger parted, Hale’s party and the prisoners going East, and the Steam Horse and the Steam Man dashing off with iron feet to the far West, ready for fun, fighting or rescue; the darkey, with fine voice and tinkling banjo, keeping time to Barney Shea as he scraped away on the old violin.
We pause here in our story, leaving our young hero and his friends to pursue their further adventures in the plains of the far West, assured that the bravery and heroism, which has marked their career up till now, will continue to urge them on in the fulfillment of their vow to right the wrong and aid in the triumph of virtue over vice.
[THE END.]