again I guess you'll have to shift for yourself," declared Butler. "We have about all we can do to look out for ourselves without attending to you, Chops."

"Ya—yassir."

"Oh, shoot the 'yassir,'" jeered Rector. "Are we all right side up with care once more?"

"Fit as dry fiddles," cried Tad. "Forward, all! Are you ready, Professor?"

"As ready as I shall be tonight. All hands keep watching the bank on either side for a landing place."

"I am looking after that. You may all help, of course," replied Tad.

They started on again. In places the current was so swift, where it swirled into a bend of the stream, that Tad was obliged to follow the current, rather than take the more direct course. He felt that his pony could not stand the added strain were he to go straight ahead.

It was a weird scene, the shadowy figures outlined in the dim light of the lanterns, the film of spray kicked up by man and horse, the great dark walls towering on either side, and the roar of the flood making necessary loud talking if one hoped to have his voice reach his companions. Chops was the only one who really acted as if he were afraid. Tad Butler rode ahead with all the steadiness of a seasoned trooper going into battle. The others were not far behind him in composure, though Stacy Brown's eyes were large and staring.

Once more their thoughts were interrupted by a call from Ned, who, as the reader knows, was bringing up the rear of the procession. Ned's voice again had in it a note of warning.

"Ask him what it is," called Tad.

"He says he doesn't know," answered the Professor.

Tad halted his pony and turned in the saddle waiting until Ned came up with him.

"What is it, Ned?" he demanded.

"Don't you hear that noise?"

"That roaring?" asked Butler.

"Yes."

"I've been listening to that for the last sixty seconds," answered Tad, his face drawing down into sharp lines of concentration. "What do you think it is?"

"Water."

"It's something more than mere water. It's a torrent, Ned. This is where we get it. Everyone crowd close to the bank," shouted Tad.

"What for? Is—is it another tree?" demanded Chunky.

"It's water and a lot of it. The crest of the flood I think is coming down. Perhaps it won't last long and perhaps it may endure for half an hour or so. Hug the wall over here on the left side. It's less exposed there. Chops! Get over here! Be lively!"

They had not long to wait. Already pieces of bark, limbs, torn branches, roots and sod were tearing their way down the pass, slapping the legs of the ponies, causing the little animals to rear and plunge and snort, and to make frantic efforts to get out of the way. This made it the more difficult for the boys to manage them, to keep them close to the bank where they would be safer than farther out in the stream.

"There goes my lantern!" yelled Ned. "I'm in the dark."

"You're lucky if you don't find yourself in a darker place in a few minutes," muttered Tad Butler apprehensively. Just then a piece of wood hurled against his own lantern shattered the globe, at the same time tearing the lantern from his hand, leaving only the wire handle in his possession.

Impenetrable darkness instantly settled over the roaring scene, and above the roar was heard the voice of Stacy Brown.

"Yassir. Nassir!" mocked Chunky.

"Stick tight to the left. Quit your fooling!" shouted Tad.

CHAPTER III

LOST IN A MOUNTAIN TORRENT

"Hang together if you can. Crowd close in behind me!"

Had all obeyed the orders of young Butler they might have escaped with no serious consequences, but in the excitement of the moment and swallowed up in the darkness of the night in Smoky Pass, the boys were quickly separated. One had pulled this way in fighting with his pony, another that. Even Professor Zepplin had been carried into a cove far on the other side, for at this point the stream had broadened out considerably.

All at once Tad felt his pony lifted from its feet. The animal began to swim. To lighten the burden the boy slipped off, taking a hitch of his rope about his waist, securing the rope to the pommel of the saddle. It was now a case of every man for himself and trust to luck.

"Are you there?" he called to his companions.

"Ya—yassir," answered Billy Veal.

"Are you there?" again demanded Tad at the top of his voice.

He heard a shout in reply, the shout seeming to come from far down the stream. Then Tad was caught in a wave and swept along with the current, clinging desperately to the saddle. There was no need to try to swim. He was traveling fast enough without attempting to go any faster. Every little while the boy would shout for his companions. Only twice was he able to catch a reply from any of the party.

"I am afraid they're lost," groaned the boy. Even the familiar "yassir" of Chops was no longer to be heard. Billy Veal had disappeared, and for all Tad knew the guide had been drowned. Now and then a tree or a heavy trunk would graze the body of the lad. Lightning was still flashing at intervals, but the storm was passing, and already a faint streak of light might have been observed roofing the narrow opening over Smoky Pass.

All at once Tad found himself enveloped in a new darkness. Something seemed to have caught his head in a vise-like grip, and he lost consciousness. Though Butler did not know it, a heavy piece of timber had been hurled against him, striking the lad on the head. The rope that had been secured about the boy's waist slipped up under his arms under the added weight put upon it. Tad's head drooped, but not far enough to permit the water to cover it. Then on swept boy and pony through the swirling flood, the pony fighting, the boy passive. Another pony bumped into Butler's horse, but Tad did not know of the collision.

How long he had been unconscious, Tad did not know, but it could not have been for very long, and when he returned to consciousness he found himself literally hanging at the side of the pony. The animal was standing dripping and trembling, but, as the Pony Rider Boy quickly discovered, the horse was on solid ground. The roar of the swollen stream was still in Butler's ears, but he was no longer battling with the flood. The night was still so dark that he could not see the water, though overhead he saw the stars twinkling brightly.

Tad spoke to his horse. The animal whinnied its appreciation, and Tad patted it with a feeble hand. The boy was still too weak to do more than lie back, breathing hard, and exerting every bit of will power that he possessed to pull himself together.

"This won't do. I'll surely shake to pieces if I remain here," he muttered.

With a great effort he pulled himself up and released himself from the rope.

"Hello!" called Tad with all his strength.

There was no response.

"They've gone! I hope they aren't drowned, but I am sure something terrible has happened to them. How I wish it were light so that I could see what I am about."

Taking the bridle rein in one hand, Tad began feeling about in the darkness. He learned that the pony had dragged him up to a narrow, sandy strip of land at the base of the wall. The ground was wet, indicating that the water had but recently receded from it. This proved to the boy that the crest of the flood had passed and that the water was rapidly going down.

"There's little doubt that it was the crest that struck us. But the question is, what hit me? I don't suppose it would help if that question were answered. The real question is, what has become of my companions?" he muttered.

There was nothing to be done just yet, though Tad decided to try the creek very soon. This he did after half an hour's waiting. By that time his pony had recovered itself sufficiently to warrant Butler in climbing to the wet, slippery saddle. How cold it did feel underneath him, but the heat of his