When Sam and the Shark plunged into the brush, it was with full belief
that they were close upon the trail of the fugitive. Supposedly,
too, each had heard the same sounds. It was a curious circumstance,
therefore, that they did not keep side by side, but almost from the
start drew apart, a fact which escaped Sam’s notice for a little. So
intent was he on the pursuit that he failed to observe that the Shark
was no longer at his elbow; and discovery of this was delayed until he
became aware that the sounds by which he had tried to guide his course
had died away. Then, pulling up, he peered eagerly about him. The
growth was dense enough to shut off the glare of the fire, and he could
make out nothing but lumpy shadows of thickets and black pillars of
tree trunks. Even the Shark had vanished in the gloom.
Sam whistled softly, then called. The answer came promptly.
“This way, Sam! You’re off the track.”
“Not a bit of it,” Sam retorted. “But where are you trying to go?”
There was an instant’s pause. Then Sam heard twigs crack under foot,
and, presently, made out the Shark approaching.
“What are you waiting for?” the younger boy demanded impatiently.
“You--for one thing,” said Sam. “What did you stray off so for?”
“Stray yourself! I chased a noise till it stopped. Then I stopped, too.”
“Same here! But it’s mighty funny----”
“Huh! I call it exasperating.”
“We won’t fight over words. What I mean is, in a case like this, when
two chaps whose hearing is all right, spread like the prongs of a
sling-shot--well, it’s queer.”
“I get you. But there’s one explanation: we must be hunting two fellows
instead of one. Each of us got after one, and as they scattered, we
scattered, too.”
“But where are the two?”
“They’ve either slipped us or outrun us. Or one may have got away, and
the other may be hiding within a dozen feet of us.”
“It’s not impossible,” Sam admitted. “But if we search----”
To the left--but not far--something stirred. Sam sprang in the
direction of the sounds, which at once grew louder and unmistakable.
The hunt was on again, and the quarry was fleeing with more thought of
speed than of secrecy.
The Shark was hard on Sam’s heels. On they went, recklessly and almost
blindly; for the chase led through dense growth and kept well away
from the fire for a time. It bore toward the lake; turned back; sought
the deeper woods. Once their course skirted the forefront of flames,
and in the glare the boys had glimpses of the fugitive. Then it drove
straight through thickets they might have thought impenetrable at any
other time. The country grew more irregular in surface. Twice they
skirted marshy spots among the hillocks. They climbed low ridges and
dashed down into little valleys. In spite of their best efforts they
could not be sure they were gaining. They might be running like hounds
on a fresh scent, but the game was traveling like a frightened rabbit.
Yet, though they might not draw up on the fugitive, they were so close
to him that he no longer had a chance to drop unnoticed and let them
overrun his hiding place.
For a second time they found themselves on the shore. Then the hare
doubled, and led them in an irregular course toward the broken ground.
And now the Shark was dropping behind, but Sam was beginning to gain.
He could hear the heavy panting of the one who fled before him. Again
he had glimpses of the scurrying figure. The light was increasing;
for the fellow seemed to be heading straight for the fire. Sam spared
breath for an astonished exclamation. He was nearing certainty that he
recognized Jack Hagle!
Why should Hagle take so much trouble to avoid a meeting? Sam puzzled
over the problem even as he ran. He raised his voice and called, not
loudly, to be sure--he lacked wind for a shout--but with sufficient
strength to make sure that the hail reached Hagle’s ears. And Jack’s
only response was a desperate spurt, which for a moment increased his
lead.
Doubt of the other’s sanity seized Sam. Jack now was following a course
which bade fair to carry him right into the heart of the conflagration.
A second call produced even less effect than the first; for Hagle
couldn’t spurt again. Sam began to close the gap between them. It was
to be measured in feet rather than in yards; then it was a case of
inches intervening between Sam’s outstretched hand and Jack’s shoulder.
But the fire was very near now. The glare was all about them; the heat
was becoming oppressive; the roar of the flames was in their ears.
“Stop! Stop!” Sam panted. “You--you crazy loon--what’s the matter with
you?”
Hagle didn’t stop. Instead, he dodged. The movement saved him from
Sam’s descending hand. He plunged blindly down a slope into one of the
tiny, pocket-like valleys of the region, which at the moment chanced to
be like a peninsula in a sea of fire; for the brush about it was ablaze
on every side except that by which he entered.
Sam saw the danger, and was convinced that fear must have driven Hagle
mad. He checked his pursuit; Jack was running straight into a trap. He
called out, “Come back! Come back!” but Jack gave no heed. He appeared,
though, to wake to the peril. At least, he changed course slightly, to
avoid a miry pool which lay at the bottom of the depression.
It was as if Sam were looking into a cup, down the slope of which
Hagle was slipping. He saw the boy stumble, recover balance, slide to
the very edge of the pool; hesitate for a fraction of a second; begin
to struggle wildly. There was an instant in which Sam failed to grasp
the other’s predicament. Then he perceived that Hagle had been caught
in the treacherous footing of the bog; that in spite of his frantic
efforts to extricate himself he was sinking rapidly; that already he
was mired to the knees.
Sam knew something of the very real peril of the case; quicksands were
hardly more engulfing than some of these swampy spots; while the fire
added immensely to the need of prompt and efficient aid.
He paused long enough for swift survey of the hollow, of the trees
overhanging it, of the advancing flames. By his reckoning there was
still time to rescue Hagle, though there was not a moment to waste. He
caught a stout branch extending over the pool; clinging to it with one
hand, he swung himself down the bank. The branch bent under his weight,
but it was sound and of tough fibre. With its help he found that,
keeping his feet on comparatively firm ground, he could lean toward the
bog and grasp Jack’s collar.
“Steady, there! Keep your head. Try to work one leg free at a time, and
we’ll wiggle out, somehow,” he encouraged.
Hagle yielded obedience. Whatever he might have feared from Sam was a
trifle compared with his new, and wholly reasonable, fear of the bog
and the fire. He did his best to carry out orders; of that there could
be no question. But it was no slight task which was to be accomplished.
Left to himself, Jack must steadily have sunk deeper in the ooze, and
even with Sam’s assistance he could do little more at first than check
the sinking. He caught desperately at roots and brush within reach.
He floundered almost in the fashion of a novice treading water, now
bringing a foot to the surface only to feel its mate becoming more
deeply submerged. Sam tugged and pulled, now this way, now that,
testing at once the resistance of Hagle’s weight, plus the pull of the
bog, and the elasticity of the bough, which was his own dependence in
the emergency.
Then the fire came over the ridge, which formed the lip of the cup-like
depression. Sam had realized that this soon must happen, and that
it had not happened earlier was due to some lucky combination of
circumstances, including a greater degree of moisture near the pool
than on higher ground. Now, though, a fierce gust caught the flames and
swept them along. Little trails of yellow gleamed on the trunk of the
tree nearest him, as the bark caught and blazed up. A heap of woodsy
debris burst into flame. The heat grew intense. Hagle, in new panic,
let go of the brush and clutched wildly at Sam. There was a second in
which the branch, bending under its double burden, threatened to break;
but, though it creaked dismally, there was no sharp crack of fracture
which Sam dreaded to hear. And then, like a most timely reënforcement
to a sorely pressed army, came the Shark, panting from his run, half
blinded by sweat and smoke, but with his brain in perfect working
order.
What the Shark did was simple, but it was done quickly. He picked the
best footing that was to be had--it was none too sure footing, at that.
He tore off his jacket, tossed an end of the garment within Hagle’s
reach.
“Hi there! Let--let Sam alone and hitch on to this!” he shouted,
briskly, if brokenly.
Once more Hagle obeyed. He caught the coat and clung to it as a
drowning man might cling to a rope. The Shark braced himself as well as
he could, and pulled. Sam gave an extra tug at Hagle’s collar. Their
combined efforts began to count. Jack succeeded in freeing one leg from
the mire, and in keeping it free. Then slowly but surely he managed to
draw the other from its imprisonment. The Shark threw every ounce he
had into a final magnificent pull. Sam at precisely the right instant
relaxed his grip on Jack, who half fell, half was dragged toward the
Shark, went down at full length, floundered frantically--and crawled
and sprawled to firmer ground. The Shark helped him to his feet, and
Sam, who had swung himself down from his bough, got an arm about him.
There still remained an open path for escape from the fire, though
it was clear that this way would soon be closed; for the flames were
flanking the hollow much as they had surrounded the camp. There was
no need to urge going while the going was good. Jack did not dare to
look back, but Sam and the Shark, when they mounted the slope, paused
to survey swiftly the magnificent, if terrifying, spectacle. Far to
left and right ran the surf-like blaze, rising and falling in long
billows, breaking as combers break, with showers of fiery spray driving
before the strong wind. Involuntarily Sam caught his breath. The savage
splendor of it all laid hold upon him, fascinated him. It was left to
the Shark to recall him to the practical aspects of their situation by
a speech which, oddly enough, was no more practical than Sam’s stirring
fancy.
“Huh! Wonder how many millions are going to waste! Geeminy! but I’d
like to figure it out!”
“Millions? Millions of what?” Sam asked in bewilderment.
“Huh! Thermal units, of course!” quoth the Shark.
“Ther--ther----?” Sam began; checked himself; laughed explosively;
wheeled and began to lead Jack down the pitch on the farther side of
the rise.
The Shark followed. He made no effort to resume the discussion, and
seemed to be content to hurry after his companions.