only that
afternoon.

They had outdistanced the racing flames and Curt reduced the wild speed
of the bus. In less than five minutes they swung into the broad yard of
the ranch, but there were no lights in the house nor in the bunkhouse.

Curt blasted sharply on the horn, but there was no sign or sound of life
anywhere.

"Looks like everyone's sound asleep," said Billy Fenstow, who was
rubbing his bruises gingerly.

"They've probably taken to the hills," replied Curt.

They unloaded and entered the ranchhouse. Curt lighted a lamp and it was
evident from the disorder in the rooms that the owners had fled hastily.
The corrals were open and all of the stock had been turned loose.

Janet and Helen stopped beside the water tank. Their throats were dry
and tasted heavily of smoke so they drank deeply of the cool, fresh
water.

Curt, pausing for a moment, stuck his whole head in the tank, and then
drank from the cup the girls offered him. As he gulped down the water he
watched the crimson horizon northwest of the ranch.

"Looks like we're going to be safe here unless the wind swings around a
little more," he observed.

"I'm worried about the folks. They know what time we were going to start
back and they'll be frantic when they hear about the fire," said Helen.

"Phone line may still be up," said Curt. "Go in the house and see if you
can get a call through."

Helen turned and hastened toward the house while Curt rejoined the men,
who were staying near the bus. The driver was buried under the hood
again, making sure that there would be no recurrence of their previous
engine trouble.

Janet followed Helen into the ranchhouse. The phone, an old-fashioned
wall instrument, was in the dining room. There was a large plate of
cookies, evidently left from supper, on the table, and neither girl
could resist helping herself to several. Helen munched them as she
cranked the telephone and listened for an answer from the operator in
the nearest town. At last the response came.

Helen, talking rapidly, gave her father's address and phone number in
Hollywood. In less than five minutes the call was through and she heard
her father's voice on the other end of the wire.

"Hello, Dad. This is Helen."

"Where are we? Back at the ranch. No, we're safe enough. The bus broke
down and we had to turn back when the fire cut us off.

"Now don't worry, Dad. Curt Newsom says he thinks the fire will swing
around us. If it doesn't, we can