Being entirely unaccustomed to judging anything of this nature, poor Bob conceived the idea that they would not be able to get beyond the outer edge of the long line of fire before it swept down upon them.
“Can we make it, Frank?” he shouted; for there was by this time quite a roaring sound in the air; as well as stifling smoke that made the eyes smart and breathing difficult.
“Sure we will, Bob; make up your mind to that; but keep digging at your horse for all you’re worth!” Frank answered, trying to speak cheerily; for he realized just how fearful the spectacle must appear in the eyes of a tenderfoot who had never witnessed anything like it before.
Possibly Frank himself might not have been quite as confident as he pretended. He must surely know how any delay, even of seconds, was likely to play havoc with the best laid plans. And one of a dozen things might happen, if bad luck followed them.
Time was measured in moments just then. Bob, in fact, counted it by heart beats; for something seemed to be pounding against his ribs at a furious rate, which he supposed must be his excited heart.
He noted that they were drawing near the end of the fire line; but at the same time the fact of the conflagration being close to them was made evident by the increased heat.
“Faster yet!” called Frank, bringing down his hand on the flank of Buckskin, in true cowboy manner; and the pony responded gallantly to this urgent demand.
Could Domino rise to the occasion, and make a last spurt? Bob imitated the example of the others, and slapped the flank of his black, at the same time giving the most tremendous yell of which he was capable.
He knew at once that the ruse had succeeded, for Domino seemed fairly to fly over the yielding turf.
If only no unfortunate accident befell them, the goal was bound to be reached. And once around to the rear of the fire, the danger would be past.