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. CHAPTER X. FUTILE ATTEMPTS AT ESCAPE. In spite of the darkness Pomp kept on at a rapid pace. He felt that the greater distance he put between him and the spot, the less chance there would be of falling in to the greasers’ hands again. “Sakes alibe!” he muttered. “I jus’ fink I keep my eyes open hereafter. Don’ wan’ nuffin’ mo’ to do wif dem greasers. I’ll jes’ wait fo’ Marse Frank to come back.” But oh! had Pomp known the position of his master at that moment he would have been thrilled with horror. Left alone at the bottom of the shaft, the sensations experienced by Frank and Barney were of the most despairing sort.