FIGHTING FIRE
There was silence for a minute, the tense silence that precedes a
struggle, when the waggon lurched away, and the men stood still, intent
and at a strain, blinking at the fire. The wind had lulled, and the
smoke went almost straight up, shining luminously in the red glare.
Beneath it, a wavy line of flame rolled on across the prairie, licking
up the parched grass as it came. As it happened, the grass thereabouts
was higher than usual. Unless there is a gale behind it, a grass-fire
does not move with much celerity, and that night the one that menaced
Leland's crop seemed inordinately slow to those who watched it. Indeed,
one or two of them found it strangely hard to stand still while it
rolled down on them, which, in cases of the kind, is by no means an
unusual thing. Action of any kind, even purposeless action, is a relief
to men under strain.
There was, however, in the meanwhile, nothing that they could do, and
they commenced to growl inarticulately as they glanced at one another
with fierce, set faces. Here and there one of them twisted the end of
the wet bag he held, to give him a firmer grip, or fidgeted aimlessly
with his shovel. The rest frowned and coughed, for which there was some
excuse, or stood woodenly still, according to their temperament. Leland,
however, swung round towards the row of binders that stood half buried
among the oats.
"That's one thing we overlooked, and they have got to take their chances
now," he said. "We couldn't get a team to face the smoke, and nobody
could harness them if we did. If they're burned, we're going to have
trouble to get the harvest in."
Gallwey, who stood near him, made a sign of agreement. Every binder in
the country was in use just then, for, since machines are remodelled
yearly, implement dealers stock no more than they expect to sell, and
let on hire any by chance left upon their hands. It was accordingly
evident that, if these were burned, his comrade could not replace them,
and, in face of the wages usually paid, nobody could garner the harvests
of the Northwest without the binder, which not only cuts the grain, but
ties it into sheaves. It is by saving costly labour alone that the
prairie farmer pours his wheat into the markets of the East, and retains
a small margin for himself, in spite of fifteen hundred miles railway
haulage, and three thousand by sea. It is the gang-plough and the
automatic binder that have opened up the prairie.
"You couldn't get another anywhere in time to be of use," he said.
Leland, however, now laughed harshly. "Well," he said, "after all, I
needn't worry about them. It's no great comfort, but I'm not likely to
want them if they're burnt. In that case, there'll be no crop to
harvest."
It seemed to Gallwey that this was probable enough. The oats stood half
as high again as most of those he had seen in England, on thick, flinty
stems that had dried and yellowed under a scorching sun, while behind
them rolled the wheat that was almost as ripe. There had been no rain
for days, and very little dew, and now, when a fierce, hot wind was
driving down the fire on them, the whole crop seemed ready for the
burning. The guard-furrows would check the flame, but they could not
stop the sparks, and sheaves and tall stubble lay spread like tinder for
them to fall among.
Then once more the wind descended, and a long wreath of smoke, blotting
out everything, drove on. A great shower of sparks blew forward out of
the midst of it, and, when it was rent aside, there sprang up a great
crackling blaze. It leapt forward with a roar, and then broke up,
running low among the grass, while the smoke whirled past the men,
choking and blinding them, thicker than ever.
"Stand by!" cried Leland. "There's the first! Beat it out! Hold on!
Don't crowd in on them!"
His voice was lost in the crackle of the fire, and that was the last
intelligible thing he said for some time. A further hail of sparks came
out of the smoke, and a blaze sprang up among the stubble. It spread,
even while two men fell upon it with wet grain bags, but flickered out
when a third reinforced them with a shovel. Then it grew intolerably
hot, and the action became general.
The fire was almost up to the guard-furrows, and a rain of burning
particles blew on before it. Incipient blazes broke out where they fell,
and men fought them savagely in the blinding smoke. Now and then they
fell over each other, and one here and there was struck by his comrade's
shovel, but nobody heeded that. Epithets that at other times would have
been answered by the clenched fist passed unnoticed; and choking,
gasping, whirling bag or shovel, they fought on. Now and then the smoke
thinned a little, and the fierce red light beat upon their dripping
faces and bowed figures, only to fade into a confused opacity again that
made but faintly visible the forms flitting like phantoms amidst the
vapour. Here and there a man cried out, but nobody heard what he said,
and his feeble voice was drowned in the crackle of the flame. Leland
appeared to be wherever the fire was fiercest, once knocking Gallwey
down as he came floundering through the stubble towards a spreading
blaze.
Then the fire rolled up to the edge of the ploughing, a wall of flame,
perhaps a hundred yards from end to end, leaping up with a mad roaring;
then it stopped and fell away. The sparks dropped short, too, in a
lulling of the wind, and what, by contrast, seemed black darkness rushed
down upon that part of the prairie. Then there was an impressive
silence, and men, half dazed by the heat and effort, wiped their
streaming faces, and looked round in search of their invisible
neighbours.
None of them knew how long this lasted, but, though they had won so far,
the fight was not yet over. Presently the smoke that streamed past them
was torn aside again, and a red light shone along the line. The second
fire was coming on, and there was still another behind. The flickering
radiance showed the dusky figures that leant upon the shovel-hafts or
shook out the half-dried bags. Here and there it also showed a blackened
face, surmounted by frizzled hair.
Gallwey, as it happened, found himself close to Leland, and looked at
the latter with a little sardonic smile, not knowing that he himself was
not much more prepossessing in his outward appearance. Leland's wide hat
hung shapelessly over his blackened face. There was a charred gap in the
front brim, as well as several big holes in his jean jacket, which was
badly rent. Blood was trickling from one of his hands.
"I don't know if I did that myself, or if somebody hit me with a
shovel," he said. "Anyway, when I fell down, one or two of them ran over
me."
Then he turned fiercely towards the moving fires. "The next one's
bigger. If the wind would only drop!"
Gallwey, who fancied by the way the smoke drove past them that there was
very little chance of it, coughed. "It's evidently not going to. If we
had only a little water, one could be more content. I feel as if there
was not a drop of moisture anywhere in me."
One or two of the others heard him, and cries went up.
"Water!" said somebody. "Is there any?"
"I'm 'most as dry as this bag. It will blaze next time," said another
man. "My jacket's singed to tinder, too. How're we going to do when our
clothes start burning?"
Leland stood up where the rest could dimly see him on the spoke of a
binder wheel.
"You should have thought of that before, boys," he said. "Anyway, you'll
have to hold out until the thing's over. It's too far to the homestead,
and nobody could bring up a team."
Just then a man further back along the line flung out a pointing hand.
"Well," he said, "I guess that looks as if somebody was trying."
The sound of a trampling in the stubble rose through the crackle of the
fire, and a half-frantic team and a waggon materialised out of the
vapour. A slim, dimly-seen figure swayed with the jolting upon the
driving-seat, and, when the watchers saw another apparently clinging to
the load behind, a confused shouting broke out.
"Wet bags and water. Get hold of the beasts, some of you. It's Mrs.
Leland. She's a daisy!"
There was a rush of shadowy figures towards the waggon, and every man
was wanted, for the team would not stand still. Blackened hands clutched
at rein, head-stall, harness, whatever they could get a finger on, and
the terror-stricken animals, borne down by sheer weight, could not make
off with nearly a dozen men hanging on to them. The rest swarmed about
the waggon, where Carrie still sat with the light of the fire on her,
while Jake, the cripple, hurled down dripping bags, and strove to
wriggle out a water barrel. They got it down between them, and Carrie
made a sign to Leland, who was struggling amidst the press.
"That will do!" he said. "Stand clear, boys. Carrie, don't come back."
Then there was a sudden scattering of the crowd, a clatter and a
trampling of stubble, and once more waggon and team were lost in the
darkness and driving smoke. After that, men surged about the barrel,
striving to dip their hats in it. It was a little while before they were
satisfied, and then one of them waved his dripping hat as though to
enforce attention.
"Boys," he said, "I guess it's not every woman would have got that team
here, and it's not Mrs. Leland's fault there's only water in the barrel.
You can blame that on your legislature. Anyway, you were glad to get it,
and I never struck a farm where they fixed the hired man better than
Leland of Prospect and his wife do. That's why, now the other fire's
coming along, it's up to every man to see them through."
There were some laughter and shouts of approval, and the shadowy figures
trooped away to meet the second fire. It was fiercer than the first,
but, though some burned their clothing and odd patches of their limbs,
they overcame first it and then the smaller one that came behind it.
Then Leland, who called Gallwey and two of the men, strode away through
the darkness to where he had left the outlaw. They found the horse
without much difficulty, and it was dead; but there was no longer any
sign of the man. When they shouted, it happened--very much as they had
expected--that nobody answered them.
"I guess the whisky boys must have played the 'possum on you," said one
of the men.
Gallwey laughed a little as he turned to his comrade. "Well," he said
reflectively in his cleanest English, "considering everything, it's
almost a pity one of us didn't think it worth while to examine his leg.
You see, he couldn't very well have walked off if it had really been
broken."
Leland, who had perhaps some excuse for being consumed with vindictive
fury, swung round on him.
"How far could you walk with a broken leg?" he said. "Do you think I
have no sense at all?"
Once more Gallwey appeared to reflect. "One would scarcely fancy you had
shown your usual perspicacity to-night. Of course, I'm not saying
anything about myself."
Though it was very dark, Leland appeared to glare at him for a moment or
two, and then broke out into a little laugh.
"Tom," he said, "you do it very well--so well that once or twice I've
found it hard to keep my hands off you before I saw the point of it. You
only want an eye-glass to make the thing perfect. Well, I can wait until
my turn comes, and you have helped me shake the black fit off."
Gallwey said nothing further as they went back together towards the
house, but he was content. He was well acquainted with his comrade's
temperament, and knew that his silent, simmering anger was not wholesome
for himself, or calculated to make things pleasant for anybody else.
Still, a very little thing would usually serve to dissipate it. They
overtook the rest on the way to the homestead, and, when they approached
the door, which it was necessary for the men to pass, saw that it was
open. Carrie, who appeared just outside it, beckoned Leland to her, and
then turned to the rest, standing close beside him.
She was now attired in a long dress, almost but not quite an evening
gown, that became her well; but Leland was blackened all over, and there
were many singed holes in his clothes, wet and smeared with ashes, and
part of the wide brim of his hat was missing. The men seemed to notice
the contrast between the pair, and there was a little good-humoured
laughter. Carrie Leland smiled at them in turn, though she would have
borne herself very differently to these rough men a few months ago.
"Are there any of you burnt, boys," she asked.
Several of them admitted that they were, though they said it was nothing
to count, and were directed to repair to the kitchen, where Mrs. Nesbit
had oil and flour ready. Then Carrie made a little gesture, as though to
invite attention.
"Boys," she said. "I can't thank you for what you have done to-night.
You see, there are things one really can't thank people for properly,
but I think Charley and I would have been ruined if you hadn't been the
kind of men you are. Still, it's been a long while since the six o'clock
supper, and I expect, if I'd been with you, I should be hungry, too. Of
course, in one way, there's nothing quite good enough for you, but we
have been busy while you were putting out the fire; so, if you'll go
along to the dinner-shed, you'll find Jake and Mrs. Nesbit have done
what they can. There is another thing. Nobody need get up until he likes
to-morrow. Not a team will leave the stables until after dinner."
Leland turned and looked at her in bewildered astonishment, for nothing
had ever delayed work at Prospect at harvest, or, indeed, at any other
time, before; and probably because the men understood what he was
feeling, there was a great roar of laughter when his wife turned and
laid her hand upon his shoulder.
"It is all right, Charley. I mean it," she said.
The rest stood still a minute, gazing at her, not awkwardly, for
self-consciousness is rarely a characteristic of the plainsman, but as
if they felt that there was something to be said or done. Perhaps her
beauty appealed to them, and it is also possible that the offer of a
feast had its effect, but her gracious simplicity went considerably
further. No one would have more quickly resented condescension than
these hard-handed men, who thought themselves, with some reason, the
equal of any in the world; but they could recognise the distinction
between that and sympathy, and were willing to yield her everything she
did not claim. Yet they were a trifle puzzled, for this was not the
attitude the cold and silent woman who had come to Prospect had once
adopted towards them. Then there was a murmuring among them, until one
stood forward with his hat in his hand.
"Madam," he said in excellent accent, "the boys desire me to reply for
them, and I must first admit that the thought of a supper appeals to
them and me. Perhaps it would be admissible to say that, having had the
honour of dismissal from a good many farms between Dakota and Prince
Albert, I know a little about prairie rations and cookery, and I would
like to testify that, in respect to both, Prospect stands alone. One
might also venture to observe, without making any invidious reflections
upon Mrs. Nesbit and the somewhat unvarying Jake, that the menu has
become even more attractive lately, for which there is no doubt a
sufficient reason."
There was further laughter, and Carrie, who saw the little twinkle in
her husband's eyes, felt the blood creep into her cheeks; but the man
went on.
"So much for the supper, and it has its interest. Man is usually hungry,
especially when he has to work hard enough to satisfy Charley Leland,
but I would like Mrs. Leland to understand that we wish her to consider
us her devoted servants. Anybody can hire a man. You can buy his labour
for so many hours a day, but there must always be a good deal left
outside that kind of bargain, and it's all that's left outside we would,
on an occasion like this, like to offer Mrs. Leland. In fact, it would
not be a great matter to put a fire out every night if it would please
her. If you sympathise with these few remarks, will you signify your
approbation, boys?"
There was a clamorous shout, and as the men trooped away, Jake's voice
rose up.
"Get a big grin on over my cooking, would you?" he said. "It's salt-pork
bones and bad beans you're going to get if I can fix it, you hungry
hogs!"
Leland laughed, but Carrie felt that his eyes were on her when they went
in, and, glancing at him covertly, she saw the little gleam of pride in
them.
"They're yours," he said, and she knew he meant the men. "Whatever you
want done, you have only to ask them; but it wasn't because of the
supper."
The blood crept into Carrie Leland's cheek. "Everybody is very kind to
me," she said.