“I can take my pony and help,” began Walter.

“You haven’t any pony.  They’re all gone.”

Ned and the guide dashed from the camp at break-neck speed.  Emerging from the dust cloud they saw some of the stock far off on the plain.

“There they are!” cried Ned

“Thank goodness, they’re all together.  And they are not running.  We’ve got them bunched.”

“Were they afraid of the smoke?  What made them break away?”

“They didn’t break away.”

“What?”

“Their tethers were cut and they were sent adrift,” answered the guide grimly;

Ned was speechless with surprise.

Some of the ponies, objecting to being roped, ran away, necessitating a lively chase.  Kris Kringle worked with the precision of an automatic gun and with proportionate speed.  In half an hour they had roped all the ponies, and, with the burros trailing along behind, started back to camp as rapidly as possible.

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 passed 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 grass 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 grass.

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.