"Here! Here it is!" cried Ned aghast.
The guide was at his side instantly.
"It's a pony," gasped the Pony Rider boy.
Kris Kringle was off his own mount instantly, and bidding Ned hold the animal, he made a brief examination of the fallen horse, after which he darted here and there, unheeding the fact that the still burning grass was blistering his feet through the heavy soles of his boots.
For several rods Kringle ran along the faint trail that Tad and Stacy had left, or rather, that the fire had left after passing over it.
"They beat their way out here. We may find them later. Come on!"
Again Ned and the guide dashed away, both keeping their gaze on the smoking prairie about them. The smoke now was almost more than they could bear.
"Do—do you think they are alive?" asked Ned unsteadily.
"So far. If they are not, it's not their fault. The Professor is right. Those boys have pluck enough to pull them through, but sometimes pluck alone will not do it. A prairie fire is no respecter of pluck."
They burst out into an open space. There were no signs of either of the missing boys.