A MOUNTAIN FIRE
It was the afternoon of the third day of our imprisonment that Jim and I
had first discovered the forest fire.
"I suppose we will be like two beautiful browned potatoes with the
jackets on," laughed Jim, who could not be disconcerted by any crisis.
"Don't you worry, Jo, we will be pretty safe here I'm thinking."
We watched the rolling clouds of smoke with decided interest. The whole
of the south side of the range seemed involved and no line of battle
ever sent up more dense volumes of smoke.
"What do you suppose started it?" I asked.
"It could happen in several ways," replied Jim. "It might be by some
wandering Indians or a trapper. Then again a stroke of lightning might
have started it."
"They are not uncommon anyway," I remarked. "You can tell that by the
thousands of dead trees that are fallen in the mountains."
"The new growth comes on quick, that's one good thing," said Jim.
We stood watching the rolling columns of smoke with fascinated interest.
It seemed as if the whole south range had burst into a dozen eruptive
volcanoes.
"Is that roaring sound the fire?" I asked.
"No, that must be the wind that is driving it," replied Jim.
"It won't do a thing to this valley," I said. "Just look at the thick
brush that covers the mountain side."
"Yes," remarked Jim, "and those pine trees, my! won't they burn?"
"I bet it will beat a prairie fire," I said.
"That's the one thing that we missed in Kansas," remarked Jim.
"But this will make up for it," I commented quickly.
"Yes, I reckon it will be more exciting than that cyclone twister that
came near wafting us away," Jim said.
It was a lurid night when the sun went down in the clouds of smoke like
a great red ball. Then as night came on we saw the glare of the fire in
the smoke and the rolling clouds were great red columns flowing in white
capitals.
"Here she comes," cried Jim.
As he spoke a great pine on the upper crest was transformed into a
pillar of flame. The first crackle became a whole roaring volley as the
charging fire swept to the summit, its red chargers spurred on by the
furious winds. Nothing could stop its victorious onslaught.
Not only were the old warrior pines that had stood the attacks of
countless storms and bitter winters overcome, but the tenderer children
of the younger growth were devoured and the maiden saplings with them.
"It's grand," exclaimed Jim in wild enthusiasm. "I'm so glad we came.
Wouldn't have missed this for a good deal, I can tell you."
"I don't care for the panorama," I replied. "I should like to have my
money back and go home."
"The horses are beginning to wake up too," said Jim. "They don't like
it."
"That's where they show their good sense," I observed.
They certainly were becoming nervous. At first they regarded the fire
with their heads up and ears pricked forward. Then Piute began to
stampede around the corral, snorting and plunging. I thought that he was
going to rear over the fort.
"He must think that he is a circus horse," laughed Jim. "Whoa, my wild
Arab!"
But the wild Arab was not be cajoled, and Jim had to strong arm him by
the means of a rope. Then he stood trembling, crazy eyed and with
flaming nostrils.
It was indeed a terrible sight as the flames swept down the whole
mountain slope towards our isolated hill. The entire valley was
illuminated with one brilliant glare of flame. However, the fire did not
roll down in one solid wave, the pines stood too isolated for that.
But each pine rose in a single blaze with a swish, a crackle and a roar,
but there were hundreds of them and it was a splendid but awful sight--a
riot of fire and the flying embers were like stars in the smoke.
"We have only a few minutes now," suddenly announced Jim, "quick, get
the saddles."
"What for?" I asked. "We surely can't ride through the fire."
"It's the very luck I was looking for," he exclaimed. "It's our chance
to escape, don't you see?"
We got the saddles and flung them on the ponies, cinching them good and
tight, and then put on the bridles.
"We are going to run for it," I cried in sheer amazement.
"No," said Jim in disgust, "what chance would we have. That fire would
catch us before we got fairly started and I don't trust those Indians
till they have been burned over once. They can scheme as well as we."
"Don't you think they have skipped out before this?" I asked.
"I wouldn't trust 'em to do what any white man might expect. Look out,
Jo, she's coming now."
The embers began to fall all around us, but there was nothing for them
to catch, as we had taken good care, you may be sure, to have every bit
of brush cleared from our fort. Fortunately for us our hill was wooded
only around the base.
Even then the heat was intense. It seemed to me as though my skin was
shriveling up, and every once in awhile the waves of smoke would almost
submerge us in their acrid, stifling vapor.
Then we were in the midst of it as it swept around our hill on all sides
and the great pines below were turned into flaming spears that seemed to
thrust themselves at our stronghold.
It was like being in the thick of a great battle, the crackling, the
roar of the flames and stifling smoke, the crash of falling trees. It
seemed like an endless time, but it could only have been a few minutes.
Gasping, only half-alive, like survivors of a wreck who reach the shore
only after having been overwhelmed with terrible seas, we leaned against
our cowed ponies (they were originally cow ponies) with our heads down.
I hardly recognized Jim, his face was blackened with smoke and his eyes
reddened, his eyebrows and eyelashes scorched. There was nothing
familiar about him, but the white grin of his teeth.
"You look like a hunk of smoked beef," he remarked. "It's time we were
out of this."
The center of the fire had swept in advance down the valley, but the
left wing was still fighting along the upper slopes on the opposite side
of the valley.
"One drink for me at any rate before we start," I cried.
My thirst was something awful and I raised the canteen to my lips, but I
threw it down with a yell. The very metal seemed hot.
"That's a cursed shame, Jo," said Jim in sympathy. "You wait, we will
get water before we camp again. We are going to get out of this hades of
a place." This was not profanity but description.
"All ready now, Jo?"
I nodded, for I could not speak, and we started to attempt to escape in
the wake of the fire. We made our way slowly down the rock trail and
then out on the slope of the hill.
A scene of desolation lay around and above us. Nor was it all over.
There were many blazing trees that had not fallen and there was plenty
of light to guide us on our fiery journey.
The undergrowth was burnt off and nothing left but black bushes and grey
smouldering ashes everywhere.
"Which way?" I asked Jim, when we reached the foot of the hill.
"Up the mountains, of course," was his command.
"Where are the Apaches?" I questioned.
"Ask of the winds that far around with fragments strew the sea. They
have skedaddled," he continued, lapsing into prose.
"I wonder if the captain and Tom have been caught in this fire," I
cried.
A fear struck to my heart. It did not seem possible that anyone could
escape the devouring march of the fire. Not many would be likely to find
the refuge we had.
"You may be sure of one thing," replied Jim, "and that is this, the
captain will take good care of himself and Tom too."
There was ground for Jim's confidence. For the captain was a man of
unlimited resource, backed by a remarkable experience and he was, no
doubt, far more worried about us than we were about them.
For us it was a trying and difficult journey over this burnt section. It
was hard on the horses, and must have burnt their feet cruelly. We
picked our way as carefully as we could, following the gravelly
stretches where it was possible so to do.
Then again, where we could do so, we would take the line of the creek
that ran down the middle of the valley. There was no water in it, for it
had been either choked or dried up. After all that rain of the previous
day this seemed remarkable.
"How much ground do you suppose this fire has swept, Jim?" I asked.
"It's hard telling," he replied, "but it would not surprise me if we
would have to travel several days before we get out of the burnt
district."
We had now arrived at the top of the mountain, from which the valley
sloped down.
"Which way now, Jim?" I asked, stopping a moment for a better view.
For answer he swung his horse north, along the ridge. It was
comparatively clear here and quite gravelly and a cool breeze, unstained
with smoke, swept over the divide, with refreshing life in it for us. It
was the next thing to having a drink.
"How are your lips, Jo?" asked Jim.
"Burnt," I replied.
"It's a whole lot better than having the Apaches catch you," he
reasoned. "Then you would have been burnt all over."
"It's some consolation," I said.
"I don't believe we could have escaped," said Jim, "if the fire had not
helped us. The only thing we could have done was to have tried to make
our escape at night."
"We would have fought our way through, perhaps," I suggested.
"Not more than one chance out of a hundred," replied Jim, "and I'm glad,
for one, we didn't have to take it."
"We get a pretty good view of the conflagration from here," I commented.
This was true, for in both directions we could see the solitary blazing
trees on the mountain slopes like the fires of a great army, and in the
canyon below us on the other side the brush was still blazing.