Laura gave a little cry and pointed with her riding-whip. About twenty yards further on, by the side of the road, was a small white object. She cantered on, swung herself from her horse and picked it up.
“Lenora’s handkerchief!” she cried.
The Professor waved his arm westward.
“Here come Quest and the Inspector. They are making a circuit to avoid the fire. The cowboy with them must have shown them the way. We’d better hurry up and find out if they’ve seen anything of Miss Lenora.”
They galloped across the rough country towards the little party, who were now clearly in sight.
“Lenora isn’t with them,” Laura declared anxiously, “and look—what’s that?”
From the centre of one of the burning patches they saw a riderless horse gallop out, stop for a moment with his head almost between its fore-legs, shake himself furiously, and gallop blindly on again.
“It’s Lenora’s horse!” Laura cried. “She must have been thrown. Come!”
Laura would have turned her horse, but the Professor checked her.
“Let us wait for Quest,” he advised. “They are close here.”