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“You can smell the smoke now,” exclaimed Robert suddenly.

“Yes,” agreed Joseph. “The wind is coming this way.”

“So fire,” said Deerfoot.

“What do you mean by that?” asked Joseph.

“Fire come this way, too.”

“How will it?”

“Prairie burn,” said Deerfoot quietly.

“Do you think the prairie will catch on fire?” demanded Joseph in alarm. “Do you think it is dry enough?”

The two young pioneers gazed anxiously across the level plain to the place where the fire was raging. They knew the horrors of a prairie fire and they had no desire to be caught in the midst of one.

“Sure prairie dry,” grunted Deerfoot.

“We’d better leave here as fast as we can then, hadn’t we?” exclaimed Joseph, now fully alarmed. As he spoke they could see the fire suddenly spring up all about the former home of the Scotts. Fanned by the ever freshening breeze it made its way swiftly along the ground and gathering power as it ran, leaped into flame and started on its mad career.

“Come,” said Deerfoot, and he turned about and ran. The smell of smoke was now strong in their nostrils and this new foe, much more deadly than the former ones, inspired the fugitives with a fear that seemed almost to put wings on their feet. A deer suddenly passed them, wide-eyed and snorting with fright; close behind it sped two gray wolves, the fact that the deer was their quarry apparently being forgotten in the fear of a common peril.