circle of fire, were drawing
nearer and nearer.

"I'll be all right," he assured her. "I just want to get some pictures
showing the wagon and the cowboys going across the creek. Then I'll wade
across myself. Of course I'd like to get a front view, but I'll have to
be content with a rear one."

And as the wagon drawn by the frantic horses plunged into the water,
followed by the shouting cowboys and the members of the film company,
Russ calmly set his camera up on the edge of the stream, and took a
magnificent film that afterward, under the title "The Escape from Fire,"
made a great sensation in New York.

The brave young operator remained until he felt the heat of the flames
uncomfortably close and then, holding his precious camera high above his
head, he waded into the creek. The waters did not come above his waist,
and when he was safe on the other side with his friends, finding he had
a few more feet of film left, he took the pictures showing the fire as
it raged and burned the last of the grass, and other pictures giving
views of the exhausted men, women and horses in a temporary camp.

"Whew! But that was hot work!" cried Mr. Bunn, mopping his face.

"You're right," agreed Mr. Pertell. "I don't believe I'll chance any
more prairie fires. This one rather got away from us."

There was a shout from some of the cowboys who stood in a group on the
bank of the creek.

"Look! Look at those fellows!" cried Bow Backus. "They just got out of
the fire by a close shave--same as we did."

They all looked to where he pointed.

There, crossing the stream higher up, and seemingly at a place which the
fire had only narrowly missed, were several horsemen. Their steeds
appeared exhausted, as though they had had a hard race to escape.

"What outfit is that, fellows?" asked Baldy Johnson. "I don't know of
any punchers attached to a ranch that's within this here fire range."

"There isn't any," declared Necktie Harry.

"But where did those cowboys come from?" persisted Baldy.

"They're not cowboys!" declared Necktie Harry, looking to see if his
scarf had suffered any from the smoke and cinders. "Did you ever see
real cow punchers ride the way they do--like sacks of meal. They're
fakes, that's what they are!"

For an instant Baldy stared at the speaker, and then cried:

"That's it! I couldn't understand it before, but I do now. It's all
clear!"

"What is?" asked Mr. Pertell, who was still, rather wrought up by the
dang