ered little that embers,
some of them still hot, were drifting in the stream, or that the water
itself was now lukewarm--it was a haven from the horror that had just
passed.

Chapter Ten

A WELCOME RESCUE

Janet couldn't even guess how many minutes they rested on the stream bed
with the water washing away the aches in their weary bodies. As usual,
Curt took the initiative when he had regained a portion of the abundant
vitality that flowed through his veins.

The cowboy sat up and surveyed the scene. A dozen fires were still
burning in the valley and the horizon ahead of them, tinged in crimson,
marked the passing of the fire demon.

Billy Fenstow, digging sand out of his ears and sputtering heartily, was
the first to speak.

"Curt, how in thunder are we ever going to get out of here?"

The cowboy shook his head.

"Walk," he moaned, looking down at the once fancy boots which had never
been intended for the heavy work in which they had been used that night.

Billy Fenstow groaned in anguish.

"Then I guess I'll just settle down and wait for a flood to come along
and wash me down the valley or until I come to some culvert where I'll
stick."

The cameraman who had ground away steadily through the thick of the
raging flames crept over to his machine. It had been subject to terrific
heat and there was only a small chance that the negative had come
through without serious damage.

"How many feet did you shoot?" asked the director.

The photographer squinted at the footage indicator on the camera, but
there was not enough light to note the figures.

"If the film isn't ruined they'll be the best scenes of a blaze like
this that have ever been filmed," he predicted.

Janet struggled into a sitting position and looked around. Her eyes
sought the bus, with only faint hopes that the vehicle had come through
unscathed. If it had, it would offer their one hope of escape for she
felt that repairs might be made to the tires and if not, maybe they
could limp along.

But her hopes were doomed to disappointment. The bus was a glowing mass
of steel. Fire had swept over it, igniting the upholstery and burning
out the entire interior of the bus. It was a hollow shell with gaping
windows.

Curt Newsom stood up.

"There's no use sitting around here wondering what we'll do," he said.
"If a couple of the boys will come along, I'll start back to the trail
and we'll keep going until we find someone or can reach a te