FIGHTING THE FIRE
“THE WELL!” shouted Tom. “It’s coming toward the well!”
Terror gripped at the hearts of all. The men stood for an instant as
though paralyzed. Carol wrung her hands in anguish.
“With this wind blowing, nothing can stop it,” groaned Mr. Damon, his
face white with excitement.
“But even if it gets that far, the well is capped!” exclaimed Ned,
catching at a shred of hope.
“It’ll catch fire just the same,” said Tom, as he remembered the leaking
gate valve and the oil-soaked hillside. “Once let the flames begin to
lick round that casing, and there’ll be a tremendous explosion. Don’t
let’s fool ourselves. We’ve got to stop it—_got_ to stop it! Carol, you
run to the ’phone. Call up the neighbors. Call up Copperhead. Get all
the fire-fighters you can. You men come with me.”
Hankinshaw and his gang had done their work well. The night was an ideal
one for their project, the wind being strong and from the north where
there were dense thickets and many trees to furnish fuel for the fire,
which was now advancing at terrifying speed.
“Everybody get shovels,” yelled Tom. “I’ll get the men up,” and he
dashed toward the cabin where the drillers slept. Usually, Koku slept
there too, and Tom hoped to find him, for he knew what the giant’s great
strength and tireless endurance were worth in an emergency.
Luckily Koku was in the cabin with the men, but it was almost impossible
to get him awake. The others had all rushed out with shovels and axes
before Tom finally shook him into consciousness.
“What’s matter?” he muttered, as he scrambled sleepily to his feet.
“Time get up?”
“You bet it is—high time,” replied Tom, and the excitement in his voice
effectually aroused the faithful giant. “The woods to the north of the
oil well are on fire, and the flames are coming toward us fast. We’ve
got to put that fire out, Koku.”
“I do that,” declared Koku confidently.
“Get a shovel and follow me,” ordered Tom. “You might take an axe along
too,” he added. “The only chance we’ve got is to clear a space ahead of
the flames that they can’t jump over. If we can do that, we may save the
well yet,” and he and Koku started at a fast run toward the oncoming
flames.
The fire had not yet reached the oil belt, but it was not over a mile
from it when the young inventor and his faithful giant arrived on the
scene. Everybody that could handle a shovel or an axe was there, but
they were working without leadership until Tom arrived. He took control
at once, and in a few minutes everybody knew just what he was expected
to do.
By this time the heat of the fire was intense, and the smoke enveloped
those fighting it in a stifling cloud. Hot sparks and embers floated
over their heads, and threatened at any moment to kindle new fires
nearer the oil well. Tom detailed three of the drillers to watch for
these incipient fires and smother them or beat them out before they got
serious. Ned and Mr. Damon, together with the rest of the drilling gang
and such of the neighbors as had come to help, he put to work digging
ditches and clearing the ground in the path of the approaching flames of
its dried underbrush, while he and Koku set about chopping down some of
the trees that grew on the hillside.
They were not large trees, scarcely more than saplings in fact, but
there were a great many of them.
“Now, Koku,” shouted Tom, “work as you’ve never worked before.”
“Me do,” answered the giant, as he tightened his hold on the axe.
Tom himself was an expert at wielding an axe, and he swung with a
tireless stroke that soon showed results, but for every sapling that he
brought down Koku felled two. In the red glare of the oncoming fire the
giant worked like a demon, his great muscles swelling and knotting as he
swung the blade of his axe in gleaming circles. The heat increased until
it became so unbearable that everybody else had to fall back, but he
hardly seemed to feel it. He kept at work until the fire was almost on
top of him, and Tom yelled to him to come back. But by that time they
had cut a long swath along the side of the hill between the fire and the
well. Other workers had pretty well cleared up the underbrush and drawn
the bulk of it back, apparently out of the reach of the oncoming flames.
But they had reckoned without the wind, which blew strongly and fanned
the fire into a fury that recognized no check. As it reached the edge of
the cleared space it died down slightly while it ate along the edge as
though it were endowed with intelligence and was seeking out the easiest
place to cross. The scorched and weary fire-fighters leaned on their
tools and waited with nerves tense to see if their efforts had
prevailed. Had the night been still, the red enemy would have been
conquered then and there from lack of fuel to feed upon, but the wind
rose until it reached half a gale and carried on its wings blazing
leaves and twigs that alighted on the far side of the cleared space.
Here the fire found fresh fuel to feed upon, and resumed its devastating
march toward the oil well.
Some of the fire-fighters were ready to throw down their tools and admit
defeat. They had seen the fire demon at work before, and they knew how
hard it was to bar his progress. Had it been left to them, they would
have given in to what they considered the inevitable, and accepted
defeat. But Tom, like a famous American commander, had “just begun to
fight.”
“Come on up farther, and we’ll try again!” he yelled. “The wind is dying
down a little, and this time we may stop it.”
But this time he resorted to a stronger force than mere human labor. In
a shack not far from the well was stored some nitro-glycerine, which
they had bought when it seemed as though they might have to explode it
to strike oil. It was not needed at that time, but now the thought of it
flashed through Tom’s mind, and he resolved to try it. He figured that
by exploding the powerful nitro-glycerine he could plough up a deep and
wide trench that might effectually prevent the further progress of the
fire.
“Come on, Koku!” he shouted, “I’ve got a job for you.”
Followed by his giant retainer, he set off for the storage shack. When
they reached it, Tom reached in his pocket for the key to the padlock.
He fumbled about, but the key was gone—lost in the mad activities of
that lurid night.
“We’re up against it now, Koku!” exclaimed the young inventor, in
desperation. “We’ve got to get into that shack, but the key is lost, and
that’s a strong padlock. How are we going to do it?”
For answer, Koku seized the padlock and, placing his foot against the
door jamb, pulled until his powerful muscles stood out in ridges. There
came a screech of nails being drawn through wood, padlock and hasp came
flying off the door, while Koku staggered backward and almost fell from
the force of his own exertions.
“Good enough!” exclaimed Tom. “Now, Koku, this is dangerous stuff to
handle. If we fall with it, they’ll never be able to find the pieces.
Are you game to take the chance?”
“What you tell me, I do,” replied Koku calmly.
Each took all of the explosive he could carry and started back toward
the fire. It was a terribly dangerous journey, as a fall would spell
disaster. The fire gave such a light, however, that they could see as
clearly as in daytime, and it was not long before they had the high
explosive in place in front of the approaching flames. Then all ran to a
safe distance, while Tom set the charge off.
There was a terrific roar, and a cloud of gravel, chips, and other
debris went flying through the air. When the smoke cleared away, the
fire-fighters saw that they had a broad trench for hundreds of feet in
both directions, with sand and gravel heaped up in great piles along its
length.
It looked as though this would surely stop the fire, and for a time it
seemed as though their hopes would be justified. The fire hesitated, and
died down until it seemed to be only smouldering.
But suddenly a burning tree, almost uprooted by the explosion, toppled
across the ditch, and before Tom or any of the others could get to the
spot, the fire had taken hold again, and was rapidly spreading. All
their work was wasted, and the fire was a good deal nearer the well than
when they had started!
Still they fought on doggedly, blistered and smoke-begrimed. Carol and
other women passed up and down the line with coffee and sandwiches. Tom
and Ned were here, there and everywhere, working feverishly and cheering
on the men.
“We’re goners though, old boy!” groaned Ned.
“Never say die!” panted Tom, feigning a confidence he was far from
feeling. “We’ll beat it yet.”
But when the morning came, the fire was still gaining—gaining only by
inches now in the desperate battle—but gaining. The gallant host of
weary men still fought on, but they fought like men at bay, looking into
the fiery eyes of doom!