A heavy pall of smoke still hung over the camp and all the surrounding country.

Once more they staked down the ponies and pack animals, and urging vigilance on the part of Professor Zepplin, Ned and the guide dashed away at full gallop in search of the two missing lads.

"Are we going through the fire?" questioned Ned apprehensively.

"We're going to try it. The worst of it must have pa.s.sed before this, but we may have to turn back or turn out for spots. It's the shortest way, and the only course to follow if we want to know what has become of them."

Spreading out a little they continued on their way, the ponies snorting, threatening to whirl about and race back into the open plain. The ground was like a furnace and the gra.s.s smouldered beneath them, heating their feet and singeing their fetlocks.

Suddenly Ned's pony reared into the air, bucked and hurled its rider far over into the smouldering bunch gra.s.s.

Ned uttered a yell of warning as he felt himself going.

The guide wheeled like a flash. Ned's mount had whirled and was away like a shot. But the guide was after him with even greater speed. The chase came to an abrupt ending some few rods farther on, when Kris Kringle's lariat squirmed out, bringing the fleeing pony to the ground with its nose in the hot dust.

Without dismounting, the guide turned his own mount, and fairly dragging the unwilling pony behind him, pounded back to the place where Ned had been unhorsed.

"Grab him!" commanded the guide to Ned, who had quickly scrambled to his feet. "What was it that he saw?"

"I don't know. Guess he made up his mind to go back."

"No; he saw something. Hang on to him and cover the ground all about you till you find it."

"Wha--what do you--"

"Never mind. Look!"

"Here! Here it is!" cried Ned aghast.

The guide was at his side instantly.

"It's a pony," gasped the Pony Rider boy.

Kris Kringle was off his own mount instantly, and bidding Ned hold the animal, he made a brief examination of the fallen horse, after which he darted here and there, unheeding the fact that the still burning gra.s.s was blistering his feet through the heavy soles of his boots.

For several rods Kringle ran along the faint trail that Tad and Stacy had left, or rather, that the fire had left after pa.s.sing over it.

"They beat their way out here. We may find them later. Come on!"

Again Ned and the guide dashed away, both keeping their gaze on the smoking prairie about them. The smoke now was almost more than they could bear.

"Do--do you think they are alive?" asked Ned unsteadily.

"So far. If they are not, it's not their fault. The Professor is right. Those boys have pluck enough to pull them through, but sometimes pluck alone will not do it. A prairie fire is no respecter of pluck."

They burst out into an open s.p.a.ce. There were no signs of either of the missing boys.

"Something has happened to them. We must have missed them," announced the guide.

CHAPTER XIV

AGAINST BIG ODDS

"What is it, Chunky?"

"There!"

Tad jerked his companion flat on the ground, flattening himself beside Stacy at the same instant.

What had caused their sudden alarm was the sight of two Indians, sitting on their ponies without saddles, some distance out on the open plain. The redskins were wrapped in their brightly colored blankets, which enveloped them from head to knees. Even the hands were invisible beneath the folds of the blankets.

"D-d-do you think they saw us, Tad?"

"I don't know. It's safe to say they did. Indian eyes don't miss very much. You ought to know that, by this time. I wish we could make that pony lie down."

"Why don't you?"

"He's too afraid of the ground--thinks it's still hot, and I don't blame him. The fire has singed him pretty well as it is."

The Indians sat their mounts as motionless as statues, the ponies headed directly toward where the two lads were lying.

"I'll bet they're got guns under those blankets," decided Tad. "You can't trust an Indian even while you are looking at him."

"Anybody'd think you'd been hunting Indians all your life," growled Stacy.

"They've been hunting me mostly," grinned Tad.

"And usually caught you," added Chunky.

"I don't like this lying here as if we were scared of them."

"But, what else can we do, Tad?"

"I don't know."

"Neither do I. Wish I had a shirt. I'll spoil my complexion clear down to my waist. Resides, I'm not fit to be seen."

"You're lucky to be alive," growled Tad. "I'm going to get out of this."

"How?"

"Listen, and you'll know. I'm going to get on the pony; then, as soon as I'm in the saddle, you jump up behind me and we'll start back to camp."

"Not--not through that fire?" protested Stacy.