He made no answer to their questions as to what he was trying
to do.
All at once off in the cloud they heard rapid hoofbeats. The boys
glanced at each other in surprise.
"It's the ponies returning," breathed Walter Perkins.
Ned shook his head.
The cries now took on a more insistent tone, and a moment later two
ponies came whinnying into the camp, snorting with fear. Kris Kringle
spoke to them sharply, whereupon they came trotting up to him with
every evidence of pleasure.
The lads were amazed.
"Can you boys shoot a rope?"
"Yes," they answered together.
"Which one is the better at it?"
"Ned is more expert than I am."
"Take one of my ponies. We've got to go after the stock. Rope and
bring them in as fast as possible. It's getting late, and it will be
dark before we know it. There's not more than two hours of daylight
left."
"I can take my pony and help," began Walter.
"You haven't any pony. They're all gone."
Ned and the guide dashed from the camp at break-neck speed. Emerging
from the dust cloud they saw some of the stock far off on the plain.
"There they are!" cried Ned
"Thank goodness, they're all together. And they are not running. We've
got them bunched."
"Were they afraid of the smoke? What made them break away?"
"They didn't break away."
"What?"
"Their tethers were cut and they were sent adrift," answered the guide
grimly;
Ned was speechless with surprise.
Pages:
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110