As he looked toward the camp a great wall of flame seemed to leap from the ground between him and his companions.  There it poised for one brief instant, then, with a roar swooped down into the tall bunch grass, rushing roaring and crackling toward him.

For an instant he stood unbelieving, then the truth dawned upon him.

“The prairie’s on fire!” cried Tad.

CHAPTER XII

 The dash for life

The shouts of the Pony Rider Boys and of the guide were swallowed up in the roar of the flames.”

“They’ll be burned alive!” whispered the lad.

Then, all at once he realized that he himself was in dire peril.

“I’ll have to go the other way and be quick about it at that,” he decided, making a dash for the pony, that already was whinnying with fear and tugging at its tether.

Tad did not wait to untie the stake rope.  With a sweep of his knife he severed it and vaulted into the saddle.

Whirling the animal about he headed to the west.  To his alarm he suddenly discovered that the prairie fire was rapidly encircling him, the flames running around the outer edge of the bottoms with express train speed, threatening to head him off and envelop him.  Had it not been for the long grass, which, tangling the feet of the pony, made full speed impossible, the race with the flames would have been an easy one to win.  As it was, Tad knew that the chances were against him.

But the dire peril in which he found himself did not daunt the Pony Rider Boy.  Perhaps his face had grown a shade paler underneath the tan, but that was all.  His senses were on the alert, his lips met in a firm pressure and the hand gripped the bridle rein a little more firmly, perhaps, than usual.

Uttering a shrill cry to inform his companions that be was alive to his peril, and at the same time to encourage the broncho, Tad dug in the rowels of his spurs.

The frightened pony cleared the ground with all four feet, uttering a squeal, and launching itself at the rapidly narrowing clear space ahead of him; and urged to greater and greater endeavor at every leap by the short, sharp “yips” of his rider.

For all the concern that showed in his face, Tad Butler might have been running a horse race for a prize rather than fleeing for his life.

“If I make it I’m lucky,”—­ commented Tad grimly.  He found himself wondering, at the same time, how the fire had started.  He knew that the flames first showed themselves midway between where he was at work and the place where his companions were engaged at the water hole.

He could not understand it.  Fire was necessary to use to start fire, and he knew that none of them had been foolish enough even to light a match in the dry bunch grass of the prairie.

The flames were reaching mountain high by this time, great clouds of smoke rolling in on the breeze and nearly suffocating him.