He could not understand it. Fire was necessary to use to start fire, and he knew that none of them had been foolish enough even to light a match in the dry bunch grass of the prairie.
The flames were reaching mountain high by this time, great clouds of smoke rolling in on the breeze and nearly suffocating him.
At times Tad was unable to see the opening ahead of him. When, however, the smoke lifted, giving him a momentary view, he saw that the gap was rapidly closing.
All at once his attention was drawn from the closing gap.
"Yeow! Yeow! Yeow! Y-e-o-w!"
A series of shrill, blood curdling yells from out the pall of smoke and flame at the rear, bombarded his ears.
At first he thought it was Indians; then the improbability of this being the case came to him.
"Yeow! Yeow! Yeow!" persisted the voice behind, and it was coming nearer every second.
Tad slackened the speed of his pony ever so little, despite the peril of his position.
"There's somebody in there behind me, and, he'll never get out alive if he loses his way."