"No can ride, missee," he said.
Lenora looked around helplessly. The camp was empty. She staggered across
towards her own horse.
"Come and help me," she ordered.
The Chinaman came unwillingly. They found her saddle but he only gazed at
it in a stolid sort of fashion.
"No can fix," he said. "Missee no can ride. Better go back bed."
Lenora pushed him on one side. With a great effort she managed to reach
her place in the saddle. Then she turned and, with her face to the depot,
galloped away. The pain was excruciating. She could only keep herself in
the saddle with an effort. Yet all the time that one sentence was ringing
in her mind--"Tongues of flame!" She kept looking around anxiously.
Suddenly the road dropped from a little decline. She was conscious of a
wave of heat. In the distance she could see the smoke rolling across the
open. She touched her horse with the quirt. The spot which she must pass
to keep on the track to the depot was scarcely a hundred yards ahead, but
already the fire seemed to be running like quicksilver across the ground
licking up the dry greasewood with indeed a flaming tongue. She glanced
once behind, warned by the heat. The fire was closing in upon her. A puff
of smoke suddenly enveloped her. She coughed. Her head began to swim and a
fit of giddiness assailed her. She rocked in her saddle and the pony came
to a sudden standstill, faced by the mass of rolling smoke and flame.
"Sanford!" Lenora cried. "Save me!"
The pony reared.
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