"I'll go right on," he exclaimed, digging his heels into the pony's flanks.
On the way over to the Rivers' residence, the captain and the boys met Dunk and Fly mounted on their horses. Mr. Phipps' telephone message for the doctor had told them the news.
"Well, if anything's the matter," said the doctor's son, "both of them have their Red Cross materials with them, if they're able to use them. You go on ahead," he added. "Fly and I are going to bring that stretcher we made to-day, and some bandages and stuff. We'll be right along."
The two boys wheeled their ponies, and the rest of the party galloped into the darkness after Carl.
It was an unusually dark night, and very few stars relieved the dense blackness overhead. Fortunately, the riders were familiar with their road, or it would have been impossible for them to keep up the pace they did.
"Carl'll be sure to find them if they're anywheres along here," said Fred, breathlessly, when they were obliged to slow up at a particularly rough place.
They urged on their horses again, and for a time nothing was heard through the moonless silence of the night but the sound of hurrying hoofs and the croaking of the frogs as they vied with the monotonous singsong of the crickets. Occasionally, from somewhere far out on the prairies, a lonesome coyote would wail dismally.
After about a half hour of riding, the party on horseback descried through the darkness a glimmering light almost in the center of the road. As they came nearer, Jerry blew his whistle.
"We're here," came the answer.
"That's Phipps." The captain breathed a sigh of relief.