"I won't risk it—There! See that?"
The slate-colored cloud seemed to shut out everything behind the flying wagons like a curtain. The breeze about the little cavalcade had died away. But Rhoda's cry called attention to something that sprang up from the site of the mule-drawn chuck wagons, and flew high in the air.
"A balloon!" gasped Bess.
"A balloon your granny!" exclaimed Walter, tying the legs of the antelope to his saddle pommel. "Go ahead, girls. I'll be right after you."
"It was a wagon-top," explained Rhoda, twitching her already nervous pony around. "They did not get it tied down soon enough."
"Then a big wind is coming!" Nan agreed.
"Come on!" shouted Rhoda, setting spurs to her mount.
"Oh, Walter!" shrieked Grace, her own pony following the others, while Walter and his mount remained behind.
But the boy leaped into the saddle. He waved his hand to his sister. They saw his mouth open and knew he shouted a cheery word. But they could not hear a sound for the roaring of the tornado.
In a second, it seemed, the tempest burst about them. Rhoda had headed her pony for the hills. The mounts of the other girls were close beside Rhoda's pony. But Walter was instantly blotted out of sight.