horizon. “Look, it’s almost daylight. That’s the answer. It mostly
always calms down at dawn and dusk.”
The fire fighters let out a thunderous cheer that was picked up all
along the fire line. Macauley came striding up the slope, a big grin on
his face.
“Looks like the chief outguessed me,” he admitted gleefully. “She’s
gonna hold.”
With the ebbing of the breeze, the backfire and the fire head were
creeping toward each other with uniform speed.
“What do we do now, boss?” Jerry asked. “All go home?”
Macauley arched his eyebrows. “You kidding, son? There’s still plenty of
life in that old devil yet. She could switch off in another direction
any time. Once we got this front nailed down solid, we’ll attack her
from the sides and back. There’s still plenty of digging to be done for
those who can swing a shovel.”
“That definitely lets me out,” Quiz groaned. “I don’t think I could even
pick up a shovel, I’m so beat.”
Macauley stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Well, I gotta admit you boys
have done more than a man’s share of work for one night.”
“No,” Sandy protested, even though his knees were threatening to buckle.
“I’ll stick it out with you fellows.”
“Me too,” Jerry said valiantly.
Macauley smiled. “You boys are all right. But you need to rest. We all
do, for that matter. Suppose you make tracks back to headquarters and
tell the chief to get another crew in here to relieve us.”
“Well, if you’re sure,” Sandy said, with undisguised relief. “I guess we
should report back to Dick Fellows, anyway.”
“He was down here himself just a while back,” one of the men
volunteered. “Looking for you boys, I think.”
“Come on, let’s go find him,” Sandy said.
By the time they got back to the command post at the other end of the
ridge, it was broad daylight. Dick Fellows was directing a crew fighting
a small brushfire at the edge of the clearing. Beyond them the woods was
a charred, smoldering carpet. The tree trunks were blackened and burned
for about ten feet up their trunks; but the fire had not crowned.
“Heard you were looking for us,” Sandy announced. “We were fighting a
fire.”
The ranger grinned. “So I heard. How do things look up there? Does
Macauley think she’ll hold?”
“He’s got his fingers crossed. He wants to know when his men are going
to get some relief.”
Dick wiped his soot-streaked face with his sleeve. “Just as soon as we
can. Landers put a call out for more volunteers when she took off like
that last night. He had a crew all lined up, but then a report came in
that there was a spot fire up north about three miles, so he sent the
whole bunch of them to swarm over that one before it really gets
started. It’s been a rough night.” He looked around at the men beating
out the brushfires around the clearing. “I tell you what, though. I have
about a dozen smoke-eaters mopping up here and along the south line.
Soon as things look safe, I’ll send them down to replace a dozen of the
boys down there.”
“Those men need relief bad,” Quiz declared. “They’re so bushed that they
won’t be able to work efficiently for much longer.”
“I know,” Dick agreed. “You boys look pretty bushed yourselves. Why
don’t you take one of the jeeps and drive back to headquarters? After a
good meal and a few hours’ sleep, you’ll feel a lot better.” Ominously,
he added, “We may need you again.”
“Why is everyone so skeptical?” Sandy demanded. “Don’t you believe that
line will hold now?”
The ranger’s face was grim. “There’s nothing on this earth as
unpredictable as a forest fire. I won’t believe she’s really out until I
personally squash the last ember under my boot.”
Quiz stared off into the ravaged grove at the other side of the
clearing. “Those trees, will they die?” he asked the ranger.
“A tree is like a human being,” Dick explained. “It can survive some
pretty bad burns, although it may be scarred badly. Underneath the bark
there’s a thin layer of living matter called the cambium, which can be
compared with the underskin on a human being—the dermis. If the fire
burns through the outer bark all around the trunk and kills the cambium,
the tree dies. Fortunately, the bark usually burns through only on the
side of the tree facing the advancing flames. It depends on the age of
the tree and the thickness of the bark. I think most of those old
fellows along the fringe of the fire will pull through. Not much chance
for any others.” He sighed. “Well, I guess Sandy and Jerry aren’t
interested in hearing a botany lecture right now.”
Quiz smiled wanly. “Even _I’m_ not interested in botany right now. Let’s
go eat, fellows.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Last-Ditch Stand
When they reached the main road, Sandy pulled the jeep up in front of
fire headquarters. Prince came bounding out to meet them, leaping up on
Sandy and barking happily. Then Russ Steele appeared in the entrance.
His face was lined with weariness and worry.
“Well, hello there,” he said. “Back from the wars?”
“We’ve just about had it,” Jerry said. “So have the other fellows on the
line.”
Russ threw one arm across his nephew’s shoulder. “I understand you boys
are real hot-shot smoke-eaters.”
Sandy grinned. “We don’t feel like hot shots at the moment.”
“Tired, eh?”
“And hungry!” Jerry and Quiz added simultaneously.
Russ laughed. “I don’t doubt it. I was just on my way to chow. Come
along.”
They walked slowly in the direction of the mess tent, with Prince
trotting at their heels. “What kind of a night did you have, Uncle
Russ?” Sandy inquired.
“Spent most of it on the phone and radio. I’m hoarse. Not as rough as
you had it, however.”
“How’s Mr. Landers?” Quiz asked.
“Great! He thrives on this kind of excitement. What a dynamo that man
is. He can talk on six different phones at once, and play checkers at
the same time. And what he doesn’t know about forest fires wouldn’t fill
up the eye of a needle.”
“He sure fooled Macauley,” Sandy said. “He was certain that last line at
the end of the ridge wouldn’t stop the fire.”
Russ frowned. “Well, the chief wasn’t sure it would, either. He just had
a hunch that that wind would blow itself out come daylight. He’s still
not convinced that they’ve stopped her for good.”
“Gee,” Sandy said moodily. “Even the fire boss. This must be a
nerve-racking way to earn a living.”
“They don’t get any money for fighting fires. Not these boys anyway.
There are exceptions, of course. Gigantic fires where they can’t raise
enough men by the volunteer system. Then they have to hire them.”
At the mess table, their tin plates were heaped with scrambled eggs,
bacon and buttered toast. It was obvious from their dirty, disheveled
appearance that they had just come off the fire line, and the cooks
besieged them with questions. The boys talked freely—and not without
pride, Sandy had to admit to himself. It was a good feeling being
treated as equals by these hard-bitten old smoke-eaters.
When they were seated cross-legged under a shady tree, wolfing the food
and washing it down with gulps of hot coffee, Sandy changed the subject.
“Any news on that bomb?” he asked his uncle in a low voice.
Russ shook his head somberly and swallowed a mouthful of egg. “Nothing.
I was in touch with the Pentagon last night, and again this morning. As
you can imagine, they’re pretty concerned about this fire. They offered
to send in troops to help out if it becomes necessary.”
“Do they think there’s any danger?” Quiz asked. “Of the bomb exploding,
I mean.”
Russ put down his plate and massaged the thick stubble on his chin. Then
he took a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and lit one. It startled
Sandy, for he knew that his uncle never smoked cigarettes, except when
he was under extreme tension.
“They don’t _think_ so,” he replied, emphasizing the verb. “But there
are so many things we still don’t know about atomic energy. And of
course, there’s always the chance the casing was damaged in some
unpredictable way so that—oh, it’s only a billion-in-one chance.”
Jerry suddenly lost his appetite. “That’s just what they said in the
papers that time a comet landed right in some lady’s bed.”
“Not a comet, you dope,” Quiz said disgustedly. “It must have been a
meteorite.”
Jerry glowered at him. “So what? It happened.”
Russ offered Prince the rest of the food in his plate and the dog
gobbled it up eagerly. “Well, speculation won’t get us anywhere. The
important thing is to get that fire under control first.”
Quiz stretched out flat on his back in the dry, soft grass. “The most
important thing to me is sleep. I wouldn’t care if an A-bomb went off
right under my nose.”
Jerry snorted. “I kept expecting that to happen all night.”
Russ smiled. “I tell you what. There’s a small brook down the hill a
ways. Why don’t you go down there and wash up? Then stretch out on the
pine needles and take a snooze.”
“Good idea,” Sandy agreed. He looked at his watch. “It’s eight o’clock
now. Wake us up at two—that will give us six hours’ sleep. Unless you
need us for anything, of course.”
“I’m sure the worst is over,” his uncle assured him. “I think I’ll grab
some rest myself after I discuss a few things with the chief.” He pushed
himself to his feet and waved to them. “See you later.”
Prince trotted off faithfully behind him.
The boys came upon the stream in a shallow gully about a hundred yards
behind the camp. Like all of the streams they had seen in the
drought-racked forest, it had shrunk to a mere inch of water gurgling
over a pebbly bed. But by scooping out a basin where the flow was
heaviest, they were able to take a sponge bath. Clean and refreshed,
they stretched out under the small pines along the bank and fell asleep
at once.
“Wake up!” The urgent cry penetrated Sandy’s consciousness as a rough
hand shook him out of a deep slumber. He opened his eyes and stared up
into the harried face of his uncle.
“The fire,” Russ Steele said tersely. “It’s broken out again. You’ll
probably be needed. Come up to headquarters right away.” With that, he
turned abruptly and trotted up the slope.
His mind still foggy from sleep, Sandy woke Jerry and Quiz. And for
several minutes the three boys stared blankly at each other.
“How did it happen?” Jerry mumbled.
Sandy was vaguely aware of the wind whistling through the pines. “Sounds
like it’s blowing up again—I guess that’s it. Well, let’s get going.”
“What time is it?” Quiz asked.
Sandy looked at his watch. “A little after one o’clock.”
Dragging their feet like zombies, they walked up the hill to the big
tent. Paul Landers and Russ Steele were bent over the map with three
other men whom Sandy had not seen before.
Russ Steele looked up as the boys entered the tent. He indicated the
three strangers. “Fellows, I’d like you to meet Paul Ames, Bill Lukas
and Tom Fenning. They’ve come down from Canada to help us fight this
fire. And brought their own crews with them.”
“Just in time, too,” Landers said gratefully. “If only I had been able
to send in a fresh crew this morning, we might have been able to avert
this new flare-up. Those poor devils had been working for seventeen
hours without letup; they just didn’t have anything left.”
Sandy leaned over the map. “How did it happen?”
Russ ran his finger along a red line running out from the north end of
the ridge. “It jumped the emergency line you boys helped to build last
night. Shortly after noon that southwest wind picked up again and there
wasn’t any stopping her this time. It happened so fast, a half dozen of
the men were severely burned.”
Sandy could see that the fire was already advancing on a narrow front
past the end of the ridge.
“The fact is, it’s really a brand-new fire,” one of the Canadians said.
“Exactly,” Fire Boss Landers agreed. He drew a circle around the
burned-out area southwest of the ridge. “We’ve got it licked in this
sector.”
The Canadian studied the map with intense concentration. “As I
understand it, this region north of the ridge is rocky and not too
heavily forested.” He touched his index finger to a small oval
representing a hill. “Any vegetation growing on this hill?”
Landers shook his head. “Scrub and grass. The same as on the ridge.”
“Then I don’t see any reason why we can’t stop her there.” He took a
pencil and drew a short line connecting the hill with the end of the
ridge. “We’ll build one line here. And another on the opposite side.” He
traced a second line running east of the hill.
“You can try,” Landers said without much enthusiasm. “And if it fails,
we’ll just have to fall back and let her burn herself out between the
two big firebreaks.” He indicated the intersecting roads.
The Canadian looked up at his two partners. “Let’s not waste any more
time.”
Russ put a hand on Sandy’s shoulder. “I thought you boys could ride down
there with them and help out however you can.”
“Sure thing,” Sandy said, and the other two boys nodded in agreement.
Bill Lukas, the tall, blond Canadian who seemed to be in charge, flashed
his white teeth in a broad smile. “Glad to have you aboard, gentlemen.
We’re on our way.”
The Canadians climbed into the front seat of a small, squat truck parked
outside the tent, while the boys boosted themselves up on the rear end
and let their legs dangle over the tail gate. As they started off, Sandy
saw his uncle standing in the entrance with Prince; Russ bent over,
spoke to the dog and gave him a pat on the back. Like a shot, Prince
took off after them. He caught up with the slow-moving vehicle easily,
and with a graceful leap landed between Sandy and Quiz.
“He’ll see that you stay out of trouble!” Russ yelled to them.
Tom Fenning turned around in the front seat and grinned. “Hello, what’s
this? More reinforcements? He doesn’t look much like a firedog to me.”
“He’s a Doberman pinscher,” Sandy said.
Jerry snickered. “He’s also a confirmed coward.” The dog cocked his head
to one side and regarded Jerry with plaintive eyes.
“See, you hurt his feelings,” Quiz said.
Jerry patted Prince’s head. “That’s all right, feller. So am I.”
“That’s not what we hear,” Fenning told him. “Mr. Landers says you boys
were right in the thick of it all night. It was pretty rough, I guess.”
“It sure was,” Sandy admitted. “And discouraging. When we came back this
morning, we thought it was all over but the shouting.”
The three Canadians nodded sympathetically. “That’s fire for you,” Lukas
said.
Quiz asked the men what had brought them all the way down from Canada.
“Good neighbor policy,” Fenning said. “Your boys have helped us out on
some tough fires.”
At the cutoff that led to the fire sector, three trucks loaded with men
and equipment were parked by the side of the road.
Lukas waved to them as he drove past. “We’re off, boys. Follow us.”
By the time they reached the north end of the ridge, the bulldozers had
already started to clear a fire line to the hill about a third of a mile
away.
Dick Fellows and Ed Macauley came forward listlessly to greet them; the
ranger and the gang boss were too exhausted even to show their gratitude
that relief had finally arrived.
The ranger pointed to the walkie-talkie sitting on the ground. “Landers
radioed the new battle plan to us. We’ve got it under way.”
“Fine,” Lukas said. “We’ll take over from here. Your men must be ready
to drop in their tracks.”
Macauley sighed. “They’re working strictly on nerve.”
Lukas accompanied the ranger up to the top of the ridge, while the other
two Canadians mobilized their crews to go into action. From this vantage
point, it was possible to trace the course of the fire since its
beginning. With the heavy screen of foliage destroyed, the boundaries of
the burned-out area were clearly defined. There was a long narrow strip
parallel to the ridge, swelling out into a sector of more than 300 acres
to the southwest. Only a feeble surface fire was burning around the
fringes of this area now; the stiff gale was turning the flames back on
ground that had already been burned over.
Sandy’s first impression was that this latest peril had been
exaggerated. Compared to the awe-inspiring spectacle of the previous
night, the fire as it appeared now, in broad daylight, didn’t seem very
threatening. After it had jumped the line at the end of the ridge, it
had taken an unusual shape and direction. It had been slowed down in the
center by the thinning timber and brush on the approaches to the hill
beyond the ridge. As a result, the fire front had flattened out and then
assumed a crescent shape as the flames went racing through the heavier
growth that flanked the hill on both sides. Sandy estimated that the
area it was burning over was less than fifty acres. When he pointed this
out to Dick Fellows, the ranger shook his head.
“The way she’s crowning, we’d have trouble confining her on ten acres.”
He turned to Lukas. “You’re not going to have time to be too particular
with those lines. She’s moving in too fast.”
Lukas agreed. “We’ll have to get our backfires started as soon as
possible, and just pray that the tank trucks can put out enough water to
keep _them_ from jumping back at us. That infernal wind! Why doesn’t it
let up!”
Quiz called their attention to a great dark mass building up low on the
western horizon. “Aren’t those nimbus clouds?” he asked.
The ranger studied them uncertainly. “They look like it all right. But
don’t count on their doing us any good. I’ve spotted nimbus formations a
dozen times this month, but they always drifted off somewhere else.”
“What gives with this nimbus business?” Jerry demanded.
“Rain clouds,” Quiz translated. “And they do seem to be coming in this
direction.”
Lukas winked at the ranger. “The whole forest could burn down while
we’re waiting for rain. I better get to work.” He waved and started down
the slope toward the fire line.
“What can we do, Dick?” Sandy asked the ranger. “We had about five
hours’ sleep, so we’re ready for action.”
“Sleep,” Dick muttered, almost reverently. “I’ve forgotten what the word
means.” His eyes were sunken and bloodshot with enormous circles around
them.
“Why couldn’t I take over for you for a while on the walkie-talkie?”
Sandy asked. “Even if you only grab a half-hour nap it would help.”
“It sure would.” The idea seemed to appeal to him. “I could stretch out
here on the ground, and if anything important comes up you could wake
me.... The radio is a cinch to operate. All you have to do is keep
headquarters up to date on what’s happening at our end.”
“You want us to scout again?” Jerry asked.
“Yes. You take the line on one side of the hill; Quiz can scout the line
on the other side. Check back with Sandy every quarter of an hour or so
in case any new instructions come in from the chief.”
“What I can’t understand,” Sandy said, examining the walkie-talkie
radio, “is why you don’t have a whole flock of these things all along
the fire line. If every gang boss had one, you’d know exactly what was
going on in every sector.”
The ranger yawned. “Tell it to the taxpayers, my boy. It’s always the
things that are most important to their own safety and welfare that they
gripe most about paying for.... Well, I’m going to rest my tired bones.”
He stretched out on the hard, rocky ground and fell asleep immediately.
“Come on, Quiz,” Jerry said. “Let’s get on the ball. I’ll give you a
break and take the line across the hill, so you won’t have to walk so
far.”
Quiz snorted. “Big deal! Then I’m the guy who has to climb this hill
every fifteen minutes to check in. Unh-uh! I’ll flip you for it.”
“Okay,” Jerry conceded grudgingly. “Sandy, you flip the coin.”
Sandy grinned as he took a quarter from his pocket and spun it high in
the air. “You call, Quiz.”
“Heads!” Quiz snapped.
Sandy caught the coin deftly in one hand and slapped it down on the back
of his other hand. Slowly he uncovered it as Quiz and Jerry bent over to
look.
“It’s tails,” he announced blandly.
“I win!” Jerry exclaimed. “So I pick the far side of the hill. Don’t
take it so hard, pal. A little climbing will help to reduce that spare
tire of yours.”
Quiz shook his head solemnly as he and Jerry started down the ridge.
“Just my luck. I always call them wrong.”
As it turned out, it was one of the unluckiest calls Quiz had ever made
in his life.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Trapped on the Hill
Several times during the next hour, Sandy heard the deep rumble of
thunder, and a few minutes after three o’clock, the sun was blotted out
by a low overcast. But the velocity of the wind had been steadily
increasing, and the fire was raging more fiercely than ever. The
backfires had been completely ineffective, and at three-fifteen, Jerry
came puffing up the hill with the bad news.
“She’s breached the line. Lukas says there’s no holding her now. They’re
going to evacuate.”
For some time, a sweeping curtain of smoke had obscured Sandy’s view of
the fire front. And the reports he had received over the walkie-talkie
from headquarters indicated that aerial observation was no better.
“I’d better wake up Dick,” he said. He went over to the ranger, who was
still in a deep sleep, and shook him violently.
Dick Fellows raised himself laboriously on his elbows and listened
glassy-eyed as Sandy told him the latest development. “I knew it! I knew
it!” he mumbled. “All of it for nothing. In the end she was bound to
beat us.” He struggled to his knees. “I’ll notify headquarters. You boys
take one last scout down the line. Make certain all the men get out
safely.”
At the bottom of the slope, Sandy turned and whistled to Prince, who was
sniffing curiously at a half-eaten sandwich in the grass. “Better come
with us, boy, so you don’t get left behind.”
With a yelp, the dog trotted after them.
A solid wall of fire blocked the first 600 feet of the trail that ran to
the hill, and they had to detour more than a hundred yards into the
woods. Machines and men crashed by them on all sides, hurrying in the
opposite direction. As they neared the hill, they ran into Lukas.
“Where are you boys going?” he asked breathlessly.
“We’re supposed to make sure that everybody gets out safely,” Sandy told
him.
“You’re wasting your time,” the Canadian said. “All my men are accounted
for. We’ve lost her for good this time. She’s crowned and running fast
on both flanks.”
“We’d better check anyway,” Sandy insisted.
“Don’t get caught on that hill,” Lukas warned them. “In another twenty
minutes, the flanks will close and she’ll be cut off.”
“We’ll be careful,” Sandy promised. “Come on, Jerry.”
They ran on for another quarter of a mile without encountering anyone
else. As they came abreast of the hill, Sandy stopped. Ahead of them was
an impenetrable curtain of smoke, and beyond it they could hear the
unmistakable crackle of flames.
“We’d better turn back,” Sandy said grimly. “If anyone is up there,
they’re finished anyway.”
Jerry did an about-face without breaking step. “All you rabbits get out
of the way and make room for somebody who can really run,” he bellowed.
“Wait a minute!” Sandy said. “Where’s that darn dog?”
“He’s probably back at headquarters hiding under a tent flap,” Jerry
replied cynically. “The big coward. Come on, let’s go!” He reached out
and grabbed Sandy’s arm.
The blond boy shook him off. “No, Jerry! He was here a minute ago.”
Cupping his hands to his mouth, he began to shout: “Prince! Prin-n-ce!
Here, boy!” He put two fingers between his teeth and whistled shrilly.
There was a long silence. Then, from a distance, they heard the sharp,
urgent barking of a dog.
Jerry groaned. “Good night! What’s he up to now?”
Sandy was perplexed. “Sounds like he’s over by the hill. But why?” Once
more, he formed a megaphone with his hands and called to the dog.
“_Prince! Come on, boy!_”
This time he was answered by a mournful howl.
Jerry’s voice was trembling. “Sandy, we’ve got to get out of here. You
heard what Lukas said.”
The heat and smoke were stifling now, and the roar of the fire seemed to
surround them.
Still Sandy hesitated. “Suppose Prince is hurt, Jerry?”
“He was here just a minute ago!” Jerry’s voice was frantic. “How could
he get hurt?”
“Maybe he stepped into a trap.”
The other boy slapped one hand against the side of his head in
exasperation. “Oh, brother! Look, I’m leaving, pal.” He turned and ran
about ten paces, then looked back across his shoulder. “Aren’t you
coming, Sandy?”
“You go on,” Sandy said stubbornly. “I’m going over to the hill and see
what’s happened to Prince.”
“Sandy! Come back!” Jerry pleaded in desperation, as his friend
disappeared into the thick brush. He hesitated for just an instant, then
ran after him. “Hey, you dope! Wait for me!” he shouted.