"We pass the camp on the walk and I'll get the horses," she explained quickly. "It will be hard to control the flock if the fire gets much nearer. And I'll try to take time to snatch a little food to keep us going through the night."
"And your father's lease—it's all lost?"
"No. The grass will come up after the winter rains. If it were just a top fire the underbrush would be even heavier." She turned to the shepherd dog, who now stood gazing, as if entranced, toward the billowing wall of smoke behind them. "Get 'em up, Shep, old boy. We've got to start."
The dog obeyed; they began to drive the flocks in the direction of the foothills. It was hard work for all three to control them. In the first place they missed the guidance of Spot,—gone some days before to join his people. Besides, they were all uneasy and at the very verge of panic from the increasing sound of the fire behind them.
They reached the camp, and Alice left her place to secure the horses. One of them, her own riding bay, came quickly to her hand, but the pack horses were not to be seen. The only explanation was that while her own animal, true to his trust, had remained for his rider to come, the others—terrorized by the fire—had fled in the direction of the foothills. They were hobbled, surely, but by striking down with both fore feet at once, horses learn to make good time even
