TIBERIUS SMITH
long, black, steaming fissure, and the whimsical smile, I was joyous to observe, separated us and the paralyzed Indians.
"Doubtless they believed their assaults on the Puff-Puff god were to blame for it all, and I'll wager if one of the startled devils could get a sniff of gasoline to-night he'd kowtow and expect his native soil to corrugate in extreme displeasure.
"And the Bally Bloomer through it all seemed to pick her own way, and well she need, for the dust was something almost beyond all endurance. My eyes quickly grew punk, and only the goggles saved Tib. Why we didn't bump into an obstacle will never be known. Everything was sicky and hazy, and I can only remember hearing Tib shout:
"‘About ten miles left in her. We've got—'
"But what we were to do was never finished, for with a flare the machine became enveloped in flames, and I found myself astride of Tib's back as he retained the wheel and the blaze strung out behind us. Then we jumped for our lives, and the Bally Bloomer boomed sturdily into a convenient ton of slag, gave a choking sigh, and flopped over.
"I could have wept, if my entire system hadn't been so dry, to see the faithful old lass give up the fight. I forgot the natives in sadly gazing on the ruins. If they saw the combustion I reckon they put it down to our devilish way of making an
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