“Come on,” he said sharply and in a manner that was little like his own.
He strode away through the dry grass, which crackled like tinder under his boots. He was a good fifty yards away from the bus and far beyond earshot when he stopped and faced the girls.
“It will be hours before that bus can be repaired,” he told them. “Someone will have to go back to the ranch or the nearest village and phone for another vehicle to come out from the city.”
The freshening breeze stirred up a cloud of dust which enveloped them for a moment. Curt sneezed heavily and then sniffed.
“Smell anything?” There was desperate intentness in his question.
Janet and Helen wrinkled their noses and sniffed eagerly.
Helen shook her head.
“Not now, but a while ago I thought I smelled smoke.”
“So did I,” added Janet. “It was kind of like tobacco smoke and then it wasn’t.”
Curt shook his head. “I’m afraid it isn’t tobacco smoke. I’ve been getting whiffs of it right along. Smells like a brush fire to me, but I can’t locate any sign of smoke.”