“Watch the camp?”

“Yes.”

“For what reason?”

“Merely as a precaution.”

“I’ll attend to that.  I want all of you to get after Tad and Stacy.  We don’t care about the camp particularly, when compared with two human lives.”

The smoke was rolling over them in such dense clouds that the camp was wholly obscured from view until they were upon it.

“Quick!  Get the horses before they break away!” commanded the guide.

“I can’t find them!” shouted Ned, who had bounded on ahead and disappeared in the great suffocating cloud.

Walter was only a few steps behind him, both boys groping, blinking and coughing as the smoke got into eyes and lungs.

“Lie down when it gets stronger than you can stand.  There’s always a current of fresh air near the ground,” called the guide.

Both lads adopted his suggestion instantly, and they were none too soon, for already they were getting dizzy.  After a few long breaths, they were up, groping about once more in search of the stock.

“Over to you right,” called the Professor.

“We’ve been there.  They’re not there at all,” answered Ned.

By this time the guide had dived into the cloud.

“The stock has gone,” they heard him shoat.

“Have they stampeded?” roared the Professor.

“I don’t know.  I’ll find out in a minute.”

“Queer that this smoke blows two ways at once,” said Walter.

“There is a slight breeze blowing this way,” explained Ned.  “Not enough, however, to turn the fire back.  It has got too good a start.”

Suddenly a weird “c-o-o-e-e” sounded to the right of them.

“What’s that?”

“It’s the guide, Walt.  He’s trying to call the boys, to see if they are alive,” explained Ned.

“I don’t think so.  That cry is for some other purpose.  I’m going over where he is to find out what it does mean.  Come on.”

Together the lads ran as fast as they could in the direction from which the guide’s voice had come.

They found him with hands shaped into a megaphone, uttering his shrill cries.  He made no answer to their questions as to what he was trying to do.

All at once off in the cloud they heard rapid hoofbeats.  The boys glanced at each other in surprise.

“It’s the ponies returning,” breathed Walter Perkins.

Ned shook his head.

The cries now took on a more insistent tone, and a moment later two ponies came whinnying into the camp, snorting with fear.  Kris Kringle spoke to them sharply, whereupon they came trotting up to him with every evidence of pleasure.

The lads were amazed.

“Can you boys shoot a rope?”

“Yes,” they answered together.

“Which one is the better at it?”

“Ned is more expert than I am.”

“Take one of my ponies.  We’ve got to go after the stock.  Rope and bring them in as fast as possible.  It’s getting late, and it will be dark before we know it.  There’s not more than two hours of daylight left.”