The Forest Afire
The earliest rays of light had hardly penetrated beneath the giant pines
the next morning before the two boys were astir. Their breakfast was
quickly cooked and eaten. Then they buckled on their bait boxes, now
bulging with worms and crayfish. They carried as well their books of
flies. And Charley slipped the little axe into his belt, to have something
to chop with in case they wanted to hunt for whiteworms.
"Let's go back where we caught that big fellow last night," said Lew.
"There may be some more like him in those deep pools."
"All right. Come on."
With nothing but their little rods to carry, they made fast time through
the forest, and had already reached the pool in which the big trout was
taken, before the first ray of sunlight came flashing among the tree
trunks.
"We're going to have a fine day," said Charley. "It's my turn to catch a
fish. Here goes for a try."
He baited his hook with a crayfish, and cautiously made his way toward the
brink of the brook. Half-way he paused and straightened up, sniffing the
air. Then he turned and looked at Lew.
"Smell anything?" he asked.
Lew had also detected a taint in the fresh morning air. "Smells like
smoke," he said. "Probably some fisherman cooking his breakfast."
Charley turned toward the brook again, then once more faced his companion.
"People don't cook with leaves," he said soberly. "That isn't wood smoke,
that's burning leaves."
For a moment the two boys looked at each other in silence.
"You don't suppose----" began Lew, but Charley cut him short.
"Let's make sure. Which way is that smoke coming from?" He stepped to the
brook and dipped a finger in the cold water. Then he held his hand aloft.
"There's so little wind stirring I can't tell which way it's blowing," he
said. "One side of my finger feels as cold as the other."
Again he tried it. There was just a suggestion of an air current. "Seems
to be blowing straight up the valley," he said.
"I'll try a match," said Lew. He took his waterproof match box from his
pocket and drew forth a match, which he lighted on his heel. "You're
right," he said. "The flame blows up-stream a little. What shall we do?"
"It doesn't seem possible that the woods can be afire," answered Charley.
"But let's make sure. If the forest is afire and we can put it out, it
would be a crime if we don't. The memory of it would haunt me the rest of
my life."
"All right. We'll go down-stream. If there is a fire, we'll do our best to
put it out. If there isn't any fire, there's no harm done. We can probably
find as many fish down-stream as there are here. We'll save time if we
unjoint our rods."
Quickly the lines were reeled up and the rods packed in their cloth cases.
Then, with nothing to hamper them, the two boys hurried down the valley.
Gradually the odor of burning leaves grew stronger. A very little breeze
arose, blowing straight in their faces. It was heavy with the smell of
fire. Ahead of them the forest began to look gray and misty, as though a
heavy night fog still covered the earth. But both boys knew that the gray
blanket was no night mist. It was smoke. They quickened their pace. The
smoke cloud grew denser. Then a dull, reddish glow appeared. There could
no longer be any doubt. The forest was afire.
"Come on," cried Charley. "We've got to grab it quick."
As they started to run, Lew protested: "Not too fast. We'll tire ourselves
out before we get there. We may have a long fight before we put the fire
out."
The smoke now rolled past them in dense clouds. The red glow grew
brighter. In a few moments they reached the fire itself. It was in an
opening where the timber had been cut and little but brush remained. It
was a ground fire that crept slowly along among the leaves. Yet it had
already spread until it seemed to stretch across half the valley.
"If we can only put it out before the wind comes up," said Charley, "we
can save the forest."
He looked about for a low tree, discovered a thick, young pine, rapidly
chopped off some bushy branches, and again sheathed his axe. Each boy
seized a branch.
"Our rods--what shall we do with them?" asked Lew.
"Throw 'em in the run. Fire can't hurt 'em there and we can get 'em at any
time."
Lew rushed over to the brook and put the rods in the water. He set a flat
stone on them to keep the current from moving them. Then he dipped his
pine bough in the brook and began to beat out the flames, working straight
out from the bank. Charley joined him. Rapidly they rained blows upon the
fire. Rod after rod they advanced. The heat from even so small a fire was
great. The smoke was blinding and stifling. Heat and smoke and their own
exertions tired them rapidly.
"We've got to take it easier," said Lew, after a little, "or we'll be all
in before we get the fire half out."
Of necessity they slackened their efforts. As they wore out their weapons,
they cut new ones. Every little while they rested. They were tiring fast.
At the same tune, the wind was beginning to freshen. Here in the open
there was nothing to break its force. The flames leaped higher under its
breath and began to run over the ground instead of crawling. The fire
itself created a draft. The greater the draft, the hotter the flame
became, and the hotter the fire grew, the stronger blew the draft.
"We're never going to do it," panted Charley, after a while. "The wind is
blowing harder all the time. We must call help."
He looked at his watch. "Twenty minutes of seven!" he ejaculated. "How far
do you think we are from camp?"
"Two miles, anyway," answered Lew.
"If I can make it by seven, I may be able to get Willie. He said he would
listen in every hour."
"Hurry," said Lew sharply. "I'll keep at work here."
"If it gets too hot for you," said Charley, "go right back to the brook,
and come up along it to camp. That's the way I'm going back, and I'll
return that way after I get Willie. Good-bye."
He started off at a fast pace. But his exertions and the heat and smoke
had so weakened him that he quickly saw he could not maintain such a gait.
He dropped to a steady jog. Even that taxed his strength. But he gritted
his teeth and clenched his hands and kept on.
The forest was now full of smoke. The dense cloud completely hid the sun.
Among the great pines it was almost like twilight. Charley pushed on as
fast as his weary legs could carry him. More than once he tripped and
fell. He could no longer see distinctly. Fatigue and the smoke in his eyes
blurred his vision. He was scratched and torn and his hands were a mass of
little burns. Charley scarcely noticed them. His mind was wholly intent on
getting help and saving the forest. Nothing else mattered. So he staggered
on through the dusky woods. He glanced at his watch. Ten minutes had
passed. He felt sure he had been running an hour and that his watch had
stopped. He held it to his ear. The steady ticking somewhat reassured him.
After what seemed like another long interval he ventured to look at it
again. Five minutes more had elapsed. Five minutes remained before Willie
would be at his post waiting for a possible message. Charley crowded on
all the speed that was left in him. But his feet seemed to be made of
lead. His heart pounded painfully against his ribs. His lungs seemed nigh
to bursting.
"Five minutes more," he kept muttering to himself. "Only five minutes
more. I've got to make it. Only five minutes more."
Suddenly he came to their camp. In his weariness he had not recognized any
landmarks. He could hardly believe it was their camp. But there were the
grub bag hanging on a wire, the dishes piled by the fire, and the wireless
instruments protected by the pack bags.
"Thank God for the wireless!" gasped Charley, as he threw himself on the
ground beside his key. He tried to flash a call, but his hand trembled so
he could not form the letters correctly. He dropped flat on his back to
rest for a moment, glancing at his watch as he lay there. It lacked one
minute of seven.
For sixty seconds Charley lay prostrate, looking at the second-hand on his
watch as it went round. Then he sat up. The minute's rest had steadied him
wonderfully. He moved his switch, pressed his finger on the key, and sent
the bright sparks flashing between his gap points.
"CBWC--CBWC--CBWC--CBC," he called, then paused to listen.
There was no response. An anxious look crept into his eyes.
"CBWC--CBWC--CBWC--CBC," again he called.
No answering signal sounded in his ear. His face went white.
"CBWC--CBWC--CBWC--CBC," he rapped out anxiously. And without listening
for a reply, he repeated the message frantically half a dozen times. Then
a buzzing sounded in his ears. A look of relief came on his face. He
sighed. Willie was acknowledging his call signal.
"Good-morning," continued Willie. "Caught any trout yet?"
"The forest is afire!" flashed back Charley. "Get the district forester on
the telephone instantly. His headquarters are at Oakdale. Tell him the
fire is in the third valley east of Old Ironsides; that the message is
from the two boys he met yesterday; that we are trying to hold it. Ask
what we shall do. I'll wait for his answer."
For what seemed an endless period of time, Charley waited. Seconds were
like minutes. Minutes dragged like quarter hours. It seemed as though
Willie would never answer. There was nothing for Charley to do but sit and
wait. In his impatience he could hardly keep still. He could not take his
mind from the fire. He could think of nothing but that roaring line of
flame consuming the floor of the forest and destroying the young growths.
Would Willie never get the forester? Must the entire woods burn before the
forester knew of the fire? In his excitement Charley clasped and unclasped
his hands and nervously swayed back and forth as he sat on the ground.
Suddenly he sat up as steady as a stone image. The wireless was beginning
to speak.
"Forester on wire now," came the message from Willie. "Wants know exactly
where fire is."
"A little south of east of where he met us, in the third valley beyond
Ironsides," flashed back Charley.
"How big is the fire?" came a second question, after a brief interval.
"Don't know. Too big for us. Lew still fighting it. I'm going back. What
shall we do?"
Again there was a pause. Then Willie answered: "Forester says find header
and back-fire. Try to hold it till fire crew arrives."
"Will do our best. Listen in often. May need call you. Good-bye."
Charley threw over his switch, covered the instruments with the pack bags,
and was off down the valley. He felt much refreshed by his rest. At a
steady jog he made his way along the brook.
Now he found it difficult to breathe. Smoke was rolling through the forest
in billows. Close by he heard the cries of terror-stricken animals. He
came to the edge of the burned space beside the brook, where they had
beaten out the flames. Here there was practically no smoke. He turned away
from the run and followed the black edge of the burned area. He knew this
would bring him to Lew, and he wanted to make sure that they had
extinguished every spark in the distance they had covered. Only at one
point did he find fire smouldering. He beat out the sparks and went on. He
could see almost nothing. The smoke grew thicker and thicker. Through it
he began to distinguish the red glare of the flames. Ever louder sounded
the crackle of fire. From a low, humming sound it grew, as he drew near,
into a subdued roar. Then all other sounds were lost in the greater tumult
of the forest fire.
Now he came close to the flames. The heat was terrific. The smoke choked
him. He could hardly breathe. The roar of the fire was terrifying.
Hitherto he had felt no fear. Now a feeling of alarm suddenly seized him.
What if Lew had been overcome by smoke and burned in his absence? The
possibility had never occurred to him before.
"Lew! Lew!" he shouted at the top of his voice, and started along the line
of the fire. There was no reply. At least Charley heard none.
"Lew! Lew!" he cried. "Where are you?"
But no voice answered through the smoke.
"If he's down, I'll find him or die trying," muttered Charley to himself.
His face was grim and set as he started along the line of the fire again,
paying no heed to the flames but looking only for his chum. Every few
yards he stopped and shouted. But no answer ever reached him.
On he went, rod after rod, keeping as near the flames as he dared. He saw
nothing of his friend. He came to a point where a tongue of fire had run
far in advance of the remainder of the blaze. It seemed to be traveling
twice as fast as the rest of the flames.
"The header!" he cried to himself. "Here's where we ought to be at work.
But I must find Lew first. He certainly never got beyond this header."
Charley stopped and called. Again and again he shouted. There was no
response.
"Maybe he went back to look for me and I passed him in the smoke," thought
Charley. "I'll go back to the brook."
He turned to retrace his steps. Something suddenly flashed into flame
close beside him. It caught Charley's attention. He saw it was a pine
bough. Then he noticed that it had been freshly cut.
"It's Lew's brush," cried Charley. "He must have been here."
He sank on his knees close to the blazing bough, and heedless of smoke and
flame began to examine the ground carefully. He ran his fingers lightly
over the leaves, feeling for footprints. At first he found nothing. Then
he discovered the impression of a heel. He could not be certain which way
the footprint pointed.
With the heel mark as a centre, he began to feel about in a circle two or
three feet wide. He judged that would be the length of his chum's stride.
Twice he felt around the circle before he found a second footprint. It was
in the direction of the brook. He moved forward and searched where he
thought the third step should have fallen. Here he distinctly saw the mark
of a foot. When he rose to his feet his coat sleeve was beginning to smoke
and his face was blistered.
"Lew's gone back to the brook," he muttered. "I must have passed him in
the smoke. He's probably looking for me."
But he still felt vaguely uneasy and fearful. He walked rapidly toward the
brook. The trail he was following became distinct. The leaves had been
kicked up here and there by Lew as he walked. The track grew plainer and
plainer. It became more like a plow furrow. At first Charley did not
grasp the meaning of the shambling trail. Then it came to him.
"He's dragging his feet," he muttered. "He must be all in. Maybe he's
down."
Charley took a quick look at the flames. They had crept frightfully close
to the trail in the leaves. Then he sprang forward at top speed. His face
was white.
"I've got to reach him before the fire gets him," he sobbed.
He kept peering through the smoke. "There's another header shooting out
toward that log," he said, "but I won't leave the trail. I might miss
Lew."
The trail led straight toward the log. Charley increased his speed. As he
neared the log he gave a cry of terror and bounded forward like a shot.
What Charley had mistaken for a tree trunk was his chum's prostrate form.
The flames had almost reached it.
With his brush Charley fell on the fire savagely and beat it out for the
space of a rod or two on either side of Lew's body. Then he rushed back to
his chum and knelt beside him. Lew was unconscious but breathing
regularly. His nose was half buried in leaves and moss. That fact had
probably saved his life, for it had given him pure air to breathe.
Charley drew Lew over his shoulder until he had him doubled up like a
jack-knife, and could therefore carry him easily. Then, at a steady pace,
he set out for the brook. Soon he passed the end of the line of fire. In
a few minutes more he reached the stream.
He laid his chum close beside the run, felt his pulse and listened to his
breathing. Lew's heart was beating regularly and he was breathing easily.
Charley sighed with relief. "He's all right," he muttered.
Then he filled his hat with water and sprinkled some on Lew's face. Lew's
eyelids flickered. Then his eyes opened.
"Where am I, Charley?" he asked. "What are you doing?"
For a moment he lay still. Then suddenly he sat bolt upright.
"I know now," he said. "The forest is on fire. I was fighting it and you
went to call help. Did you get Willie? And how did you find me? I guess I
got too much smoke. I started for the brook. That's all I can remember.
I'm all right now. We're going back."
He got to his feet, but at first had to be supported. Charley made him lie
down again. In a few minutes his strength seemed to return to him. He got
up.
"I'm all right now, Charley," he insisted. "I mightn't be awake yet if you
hadn't thrown that water on my face. Thanks, old man."
Charley did not tell Lew how near to death he had been. Instead, he said,
"Are you sure you're strong enough to tackle that fire again?"
"Sure as shooting," nodded Lew.
"Then come on. The fire has an awful start on us. The forester wants us to
try to hold the header by back-firing."
As they started toward the blaze Lew said, "We'll have to work some
distance in advance of it. If only we had rakes we might conquer it even
yet."
They made their way to a point well in front of the header. Then they cut
sticks and made little bundles of them to use like rakes.
"I'll clear away the leaves and you start the fire," directed Charley.
He began raking away the leaves, clearing a sort of path about two feet
wide straight across the line of the advancing header. Lew lighted the
leaves on the side of the cleared space toward the header, following close
upon Charley's heels. From time to time he ran back along the cleared
space to make sure the flames had not jumped across it. Wherever they had,
he beat them out with his brush. On the other side of the cleared space
the flames slowly worked their way toward the onrushing header, widening
with every minute the barren area where the flames could find no fuel to
feed upon.
Rod after rod Charley cleared a narrow lane and Lew kept close behind him
with his torch. With amazing rapidity they extended their line.
"If only we had the Wireless Patrol here," panted Lew, "we'd lick this old
fire to a frazzle."
On and on they went. To save their strength they exchanged tasks at
intervals. Every few minutes they faced about and ran back over their line
to make sure no flames had crossed the cleared space. The air was dense
with smoke, but the heat from their back-fire was trifling in comparison
with that of the main conflagration. The stand of timber grew thicker,
breaking the force of the breeze more and more. Their back-fire ate its
way into the wind much faster, and the real fire came on slower. It seemed
to be getting farther and farther away.
"We've passed the header," cried Charley exultantly. "We ought to be able
to hold the main fire."
They rested a moment, then went at their task with renewed hope and vigor.
Rod after rod they cleared a path and fired the leaves on the windward
side of this lane. Finally their line grew so long that they could no
longer guard it properly.
"If only we had half a dozen boys to patrol the line," sighed Lew. "I'm
afraid the flames will jump across somewhere. Then all we have done will
be in vain."
"We'll make a trip over the whole line," declared Charley, "and be sure
it's safe. Then we'll stop back-firing and beat out the flames again. It's
the only sure way I can think of."
He drew his axe and cut fresh boughs. Then they went back along their
line. In one place flames had already leaped across, but they fell on them
vigorously with their bushes and soon put them out. They patrolled the
line until they felt sure it was safe.
"If we can put out the flames between our back-fire and the brook," said
Lew, "it will make our job a great deal easier. We've already put out part
of them."
They began to work their way back to the brook, following the line of
flame and beating out the fire foot by foot as they advanced. There were
many things in their favor. The dense stand of trees at this point not
only checked the wind and made the fire less fierce, but the absence of
underbrush also helped to check it. There was little for it to feed upon
but leaves. So the two boys could work close to it and beat it out with
ease, though the smoke was stifling. Only lads of great determination and
courage would have stuck to the task.
With frequent pauses, necessary for rest, they went on, foot by foot, yard
after yard, rod upon rod. "We're going to make it," cried Lew presently.
"It's only a little distance to the end of the flames."
They increased their efforts. Quickly they reached the end of the line of
fire. Beyond that the woods had been saved by their first efforts.
"Now we'll go back over the line," said Charley, "and make sure the fire
doesn't start up anywhere."
"I'm dying of thirst," said Lew. "Let's get a drink first. We are not far
from the brook."
They hurried to the run and threw themselves flat on the bank, drinking
copious draughts of the cool and refreshing water.
"I wonder what time it is," said Charley, as they got to their feet again.
"It seems to me that we've been fighting fire for hours." He looked at his
watch. "We have," he cried. "It's after eleven o'clock. The fire crew has
been on the way four hours. They'll follow their fire trails and get here
in a fraction of the time it took us to come in. They certainly ought to
be here soon. If we can hold the fire for a little bit longer the forest
will be safe."
"Come on," called Lew. "We've got to do it."
Again they went along the line of their back-fire. For rod after rod the
fire was conquered. In other places it still burned; but the back-fire had
now eaten its way so far to windward of the cleared space that there was
no longer any danger of the flames leaping past the barrier. So they
covered the entire length of their line and found it safe.
When they reached the main fire again they began to beat it out with
branches. Rod after rod they continued to work their way. But at best
their progress was painfully slow.
"Lew," said Charley of a sudden, "while we are beating out these flames
here, there may be another header in front of us traveling like a
racehorse. I'm going to run ahead and see. You stay here. Call every
little bit and I'll answer. I'll be back in a few minutes."
He made his way along the line of the fire. Here in the thick timber it
still burned slowly and feebly. He could trace the line of fire far ahead,
and it seemed to have advanced with remarkable evenness. Nowhere could be
seen a header of flame jutting out far in advance of the main line.
"If the wind doesn't rise," he muttered to himself, "we're going to make
it."
He went on, trying to locate the other end of the fire. Behind him he
heard Lew halloing. Before he could turn to answer, an echo came back from
the mountain in front of him.
"If only that were a real voice," muttered Charley to himself.
Then he stood stock-still. Shout after shout came ringing in his ears. "It
<i>is</i> a real voice," he cried. "The fire crew is coming."
A moment later a dozen forms became visible in the smoke. They were
running along the edge of the fire, evidently trying to determine where to
begin their attack on it. At their head was the forester. He came directly
toward Charley, but gave no sign of recognition. Nor, could Charley have
seen himself, would he have wondered at it. With his face blackened by
smoke and caked with blood from innumerable little cuts and scratches, his
hands grimy and almost raw, and his clothes torn in a hundred places,
Charley could hardly have been recognized by his own mother.
"How far across the valley does this fire extend?" asked the forester.
"You are almost at the end of it, sir," replied Charley.
"It's making a tremendous smoke for such a little blaze, then," said the
forester.
He turned to his men. "Get right at it and beat it out," he ordered. "This
is all there is to it."
Again he faced Charley. "Are you sure?" he demanded. "When we came over
the pass it looked as though the entire bottom was afire."
"It was," said Charley. "That is, everything this side of the run was
afire. We have got it all out but this."
"Have you seen anything of two boys with a wireless outfit? They notified
me of this fire."
"Why, I am one of them, sir. It was I who asked you yesterday for a job as
fire patrol."
The forester looked at him narrowly for several seconds. "See here," he
said severely. "Did you boys set this forest afire?"
Charley looked aghast. "Set the forest afire!" he exclaimed in amazement.
"Certainly not. Why should we?"
"Are you telling me the truth?"
Even through the grime Charley's face was red. "See here," he said
angrily, "I don't care whether you are the forester or the President of
the United States. You are not going to call me a liar. If Lew and I
hadn't been here fishing, you wouldn't have any forest by this time. We've
fought this fire for hours and it's only a piece of luck that Lew isn't
dead. He'd have been burned to a crisp if I hadn't found him just when I
did. We've done everything we could to save the forest. I demand to know
your reason for suggesting that we started the blaze."
"Young man," said the forester, "more than one forest fire has been set by
persons who wanted a job fighting fire. You wanted a job. You told me what
an advantage your wireless would be.
"My ranger reported to me by telephone last night that excepting for
yourselves he had seen nobody in this region all day. This morning a fire
breaks out; you report it promptly by wireless; and when we arrive, you
have it almost out. Isn't that a suspicious chain of circumstances?
Doesn't it look as though you might be trying to show the forester
something?"
"A fellow who would set the forest afire just to prove his own
qualifications as a fire fighter ought to be put in prison," said Charley
indignantly. "Do you think I'm that kind of a skunk?"
"No, I don't," said the forester. "I believe you boys had no hand in
starting this fire and that you have risked your lives and done heroic
work to save the forest. But I had to be sure. There is something queer
about this fire. With no railroads near to shoot up sparks, no
thunder-storms to flash lightning, and no campers to be careless with
their fires, what did cause it? It isn't the first time mysterious fires
have started in this fine timber. You saw in the other valley what two of
these fires did before we got them out. This is the third fire that has
occurred in this tract. If it hadn't been for you boys, I hate to think
what would have happened. You have done a great service to the people of
Pennsylvania."
Charley was suddenly abashed. He turned his glance on the ground. He did
not know what to say.
After a moment the forester spoke again. A new idea seemed suddenly to
have occurred to him. "Now that you have had a taste of real fire
fighting," he said, "would you still like to be a fire patrol--possibly a
ranger?"
"Better than anything in the world," replied Charley. "I love the forest."
"Are you sure you can be released from further school work?"
"I feel certain I can."
"Then I have a particular job for you, Mr. Fire Guard."
"Mr. Fire Guard," echoed Charley, his heart beating wildly. "What do you
mean?"
"I mean," smiled the forester, "that you are here and now appointed a fire
patrol; that you are now a representative of the State of Pennsylvania,
and after you have been sworn in you will have the power of making
arrests. The particular job I have for you is to guard this forest.
Somebody wants to destroy this stand of virgin timber. Your job is to
protect it."