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Uncle Fred and Captain Roy, and as many cowboys as could be found, started toward the cloud of black smoke with plows and horses. As Russ had said, the smoke-cloud could plainly be seen. It seemed to be rolling along the ground, as white, fleecy clouds roll along in the sky. And at the bottom of the black cloud could b...
The four little Bunkers were led by their father out to where they could have a good view of the fire. The smoke was blacker now, and the flames could be seen more plainly. At times, when the wind blew with unusual strength, the children could smell the smoke and burning grass.
"Does the wind push the fire on, same as it pushed Russ's sail-wagon?" asked Vi.
"Just the same," answered her father. "The fire comes toward us just as fast as the wind blows. If the wind would only blow the other way the fire would not harm us."
But the wind was blowing right toward Uncle Fred's ranch houses, and he and the cowboys knew they must hurry to plow the safety strip of land.
And so they began. Back and forth the teams of horses pulled the plows, turning the dry grass under and leaving only bare earth on top. Then other cowboys came, and the farmers and ranchers who had been telephoned to, and soon many were fighting the prairie fire.
Nearer and nearer it came. The horses, smelling the smoke and seeing the flames, began to snort and prance around.
"Only a little more now," cried Uncle Fred, "and we'll be safe!"
Back and forth the plows hurried, turning up strip after strip of damp ground. It was so hot now, because the fire was nearer, that Daddy Bunker led the children back a way.
"Could the fire get ahead of me if I ran fast?" asked Russ, as he watched the flames and smoke.
"Yes, if the wind blows hard the fire can go faster than the fastest man can run," said Captain Roy, who came up to where Daddy Bunker stood. The captain was thirsty, and wanted a drink of water from the pail Daddy Bunker had carried from the house.
"Do you think you can stop the fire?" asked Violet.
"Oh, yes, we'll stop it now all right," the former soldier answered. "We started to plow just in time."
And so it happened. The flames and smoke in the burning tall grass rolled right up to the edge of the plowed strip, and then they stopped. There was nothing more for the fire to "eat," as Russ called it. Some little tongues of fire tried to creep around the ends of the plowed strip, but the cowboys soon beat these out ...
"There! Now the fire is out!" cried Uncle Fred. "There is no more danger."
"And will your houses be all right?" Rose asked.
"Yes, they won't burn now."
There was still much smoke in the air, but the wind was blowing it away. And then the children could see the big field, all burned black by the fire.
"The cows can't eat that now, can they?" asked Laddie.
"No, it's spoiled for pasture," said Uncle Fred. "But it will grow up again. Still a prairie fire is a bad thing."
The little Bunkers thought so, too, and they were glad when it was over. They went back to the house, leaving some of the cowboys on guard, to see that no stray sparks started another fire.
"And now we'll have dinner," said Uncle Fred. "It's a little late, but we'll call it dinner just the same."
He invited the men from the other ranches, who had come to help him fight the fire, to stay with him, and soon Bill Johnson was serving a meal to many hungry men. The little Bunkers had theirs separately.
That afternoon Russ and Laddie and Vi went fishing again, while Mrs. Bunker took the other children for a ride in one of Uncle Fred's wagons, with Daddy Bunker to drive. She went to call on a neighbor, about five miles away; a lady who used to live near Mrs. Bunker, but whom she had not seen for a long while.
Laddie, Russ and Violet had fun fishing, and caught enough for Bill Johnson to cook for supper.
"Come on!" called Laddie to Russ that evening, after they had played for a while out near the barn. "Let's go over and get a drink out of the spring."
"All right," agreed Russ. "Maybe we can see what makes it dry up."
"Maybe a bad Indian does it," suggested Laddie. "If I saw him do it I'd lasso him."
"So would I -- only they won't let us have lassos any more."
"Well, maybe they would if they knew we could catch an Indian," went on Laddie hopefully. "Come on, anyhow." Then off they started toward the spring.
"Oh, look!" exclaimed Russ, who had run on ahead. "The water's all gone again!"
"It is?" cried Laddie. "Oh, we'd better go and tell Uncle Fred! Let me see!"
He hurried to his brother's side. Surely enough, there was hardly a pailful of water in the bottom of the spring. And the stream that trickled in through the rocks at the back had stopped.
"Do you s'pose the bad men are taking any more of Uncle Fred's cattle?" asked Laddie. "He said they did that when the spring went dry."
The two little boys managed to dip up a drink in the half a cocoanut shell, and then they looked about them. Night was coming on, and the sun had set some little time before.
"Hark! what's that?" asked Russ, listening.
"Thunder?" asked Laddie. "Is it thunder?"
"It sounds like it," said Russ, "but I don't see any lightning. I guess we'd better go home, anyhow."
They started away from the spring, and then Laddie suddenly cried:
"Oh, look! Look at Uncle Fred's cows all running away!"
Russ looked, and saw a big bunch of cattle rushing and thundering across the plain. It was the hoofs of the cattle beating on the ground that made the sound like thunder.
"Oh, what is it? What is it?" cried Laddie. "What makes 'em run like that?"
"It's a cattle stampede!" shouted a voice, almost in the ears of the boys. "Look out! Up you come!"
Chapter XVIII
An Indian
"It's a cattle stampede!"
Before Russ and Laddie had a chance to think what this meant, though Uncle Fred had told them in his stories, each little boy felt himself caught up in strong arms, and set on a horse in front of a cowboy.
What had happened was that two of Uncle Fred's cowboys had ridden along when Russ and Laddie were at the spring, and, fearing the little lads might get into danger, they had taken them up on their saddles.
"Where are we going?" asked Laddie, undecided whether or not to cry.