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climbed back up.
    The Bomb Lance shook his head. “I don't believe it. Nothing kills that thing.”
    “That's because it ain't alive. Now stop flapping those Irish lips and get another spear ready.” He held up the dynamite. “We'll blow him up for sure this time.”
    The Automaton clamped one hand over the other until he reached the main cable. He hefted himself up onto the main cable as the second dynamite-tipped harpoon flew toward him.
    This time he ran down the cable, letting it explode behind him. The force of the blast ripped away the remains of his jacket and shirt, revealing the rows of clockwork cogs underneath. He rose up into the air slightly, and for a moment Tom seemed to be almost skating down the thick wire, the energy of the blast propelling him forward.
    As he reached the end of the cable and was about to step onto the anchorage, a harpoon slammed directly into his torso, halting his movement. An instant later a second spear found a weaker spot and tore straight through him, pulling out some of the gears and wires from his body as it exited through his back. As he began to slide off the wire, the Automaton threw himself into the air. His graceful landing was interrupted by a stick of dynamite that exploded underneath him, throwing him back into the air. He landed flat on his back, his brass frame smacking into the stone of the anchorage with a clang.
    Doc Dynamite and the Bomb Lance were standing only ten feet away. “I think we broke the bronco, Murphy.” The Texan said it with a note of triumph in his voice.
    “Why don't you toss one more of those bombs of yours at him to make sure, if you don't mind.”
    “It's called dynamite, and we're too close.” The cowboy pulled out another stick, lit it, and casually chucked it. “We'd best run.”
    They headed down the road toward the balloon, and the Automaton jerked up behind them. His porcelain faceplate had been shattered and blackened by the blast, and it was clear by the way he twitched as he tried to move that the explosions had done something unpleasant to his mechanisms. His arm reached out and grabbed the dynamite stick, then hurled it back toward the other two men. It exploded in midair as it sailed toward them. The force of the blast knocked both men to the ground, smacking the air out of their lungs, leaving them gasping and coughing.
    The Automaton stepped out of the smoke, standing only a few feet away from the Bomb Lance. “You will give me the…key.”
    The Irishman got up to his knees and pointed his right arm at Tom. The Automaton grabbed the spear and twisted, then yanked the harpoon completely out of the frame. There was a popping sound as the metal wires tore free from tension, then a plink as they snapped. He threw the harpoon and a chunk of the frame over the edge of the anchorage.
    “No more of that.” He stepped on the Irishman's chest and leaned forward, letting his considerable weight keep the air from coming back into his lungs. “I want the key.”
    The Irishman fumbled for his pockets, but couldn't get more than his fingertips into them. “I can't reach…”
    The Automaton grabbed onto the man's elbow with one hand and used the other to tear the rest of the frame completely off of his right arm. His hand no longer encumbered, the Bomb Lance dug down into his pocket and produced the key.
    “Thank you.” Tom reached out to grab it and then jerked back as three bullets from Doc Dynamite's gun tore the rest of his face away. The glass lens of the camera underneath shattered. “How d'ya like the taste of lead, you hunk a’ junk?”
    Tom staggered for a moment and then lunged at the Texan, leading with his fist. It wiped away the Texan's smile as it cracked into his jaw.
    Doc Dynamite tried to roll with the blow, but it was far too late. He tried to talk, and screamed, “Ooo oke my od am ace!” The Automaton tried to attack again, but failed to connect as a harpoon smashed into him. The impact was much weaker than the