"THE LAKE! IT'S THE ONLY CHANCE OF ESCAPE!"
The sun went down and the coming darkness warned the three boys, vainly
searching for Dave MacLester, that they must hurry if they were to find
their way to camp. If no success had attended them by daylight, they
certainly could hope to do nothing after nightfall, and they turned back
toward the lake.
All afternoon Phil, Billy and Paul had tramped the woods. Except for the
three tracks in some soft earth, as earlier mentioned, not one certain
clue to the direction taken by Dave and his unknown companion had the
friends found.
Quite worn out in both body and mind, they took careful note of their
bearings, then headed by what they thought a bee-line for Opal Lake.
On and on they hurried. The twilight deepened and they kept to a direct
course with difficulty. And still they reached neither the lake nor any
familiar spot.
"Fine boat we're in if we've gone and got lost," gasped Paul, bringing
up the rear. The boys were pushing forward at a slow run, Phil Way in the
lead.
"We didn't pay close enough attention to the distance, when we were going
the other way; but we'll be out of this in a little while now," came Way's
hopeful answer.
"I smell smoke. It might be from our own camp. Chip would be firing up
like mad to make a bright blaze," came Billy's voice above the steady
patter of feet upon the needle-strewn ground.
"There's some breeze picking up, but not quite from that direction," said
Phil, though he paused not a moment.
Paul was first to discover that the course Way was taking could not be
right. "I can catch the smell of the swampy ground, at the west end of
the lake, in the wind," he said. "We've got to head right against this
breeze."
A brief pause, and the lads agreed that Paul was right. And soon the proof
was positive. Ten minutes of rapid walking brought the chums to the water,
but it was at the east end of the lake, not the north shore, at which
they found themselves. Another half mile or less would have taken them
entirely beyond the familiar sheet of water, and have led them, hopelessly
lost, undoubtedly into the woods to the south. Their course had been
steered too far easterly in the beginning.
Glad, indeed, to be so near their camp once more, despite the weight upon
their hearts concerning Dave, the boys agreed to continue on around the
upper end of the lake on foot rather than return now for the skiff on
the more distant shore. So did they come presently to their shack and
the bright blaze Chip Slider had burning as a beacon light for them.
The ray of hope the young searchers held out to one another on their
homeward way, that they might find MacLester safe and sound in camp upon
their own arrival there, was quickly turned to disappointment. Chip had
no news--not one word of information, good or bad, to report. He had
remained faithfully in camp and had seen nothing, heard nothing unusual.
"Exceptin'," said he, "there's bad fires somewheres in the woods. I
smelled smoke the minute the wind began blowin'. All day there wasn't
hide nor hair of air a stirrin'. It was just after sundown that it started
in, real gentle, an' it's gettin' higher. You take a fire in the woods,
and a stiff gale, and you've got something to look out for, I tell you."
"We've got to rest and think a little, and have something to eat," said
Phil, paying scant attention to Slider's words. "We've done what we can
in one direction, now we must start out on some other plan."
"I knowed you'd be hungry and I've got the coffee hot. I boiled some
eggs and cooled 'em this afternoon and them are ready, too. Just you
all rest and I'll get some kind of supper," announced Slider, almost
bashfully. But his friends were truly glad to do as he suggested. The
simple, hasty meal of cold, hard-boiled eggs with plenty of bread and
butter, crackers and cheese and coffee would have been most enjoyable
too, had there been no absent one.
For an hour or two the three Auto Boys rested and sought to find the best
plan to pursue toward finding Dave MacLester. They could not do better,
they at last felt sure, than to report their mystery to the authorities at
Staretta.
From the town, also, inquiries among the villages lying beyond the great
woods could be made by telegraph or, even better, by telephone, perhaps.
If Dave had been foully dealt with, as seemed only too probable, the law's
officials could not be any too quickly informed.
It was drawing on toward midnight when the Thirty's lamps were lighted,
the engine started and all made ready for a rapid run to the town. Phil
took the wheel. Telling Slider to keep a bright blaze shining and his
ears wide open for any signal from over the lake, he threw in the gear,
let the clutch take hold, and the three boys began this last bit of
service they were ever to have from their much beloved car.
Way was usually a conservative driver but tonight his foot at no time
ceased to press the pedal that increased the gas. Over the smooth spots
and over the rough ones, ruts, roots and hummocks of the hard-baked
earth, the automobile whirred. Rarely did the speedometer show less than
fifteen miles and often the indicator touched twenty-five, and this
while the road was still but the woodland trail.
Luckily the lights were clear and bright, but more fortunate still, Phil
was every moment alert and earnestly attentive to every inch of the road
and every throb of the machine.
Like some swift phantom the blaze of the lamps sped on and on among
the ever retreating shadows and utter blackness of the night. Like
black-hooded spectres the trees at either side seemed to glide ever to
the rear, silent and ghostly except as their branches were tossed by
the rising wind.
It was not until they were far past the bleak, dark house of Nels
Anderson, that Billy shouted his opinion that inquiry should have been
made there. No, Phil called with emphasis, the time for giving heed
to uncertain, unknown persons had passed. He was sorry the arrest of
Murky and of Grandall had not been brought about when first it was
suggested, he said. A lot of things might have turned out differently
if it had been done, and he, at least, believed----
"Look! There's sure fire yonder!" It was Paul's voice interrupting.
The car was fairly clear of the woods and the road now led among the
blackened stumps and rough undergrowth of the district where flames had
raged in time long past.
Far to the west and north the sky was blazing red. The whole distant
horizon of the direction named seemed as if the doors of some mighty,
seething furnace, miles in width, stood open. A rank odor of burning
wood came stronger and stronger on the gusts of wind.
"It's a good ways off and maybe isn't burning much this way," shouted
Worth above the rush of air and whir of the auto's wheels.
"The wind, man! It's sweeping right into the heart of the woods," Phil
answered loudly. But not for a moment did the car slacken speed. The road
was getting better. Staretta was but five miles distant.
"Still, there's not much danger of the fire coming our way. It will go
way north of the lake," Worth replied.
"And that's just the direction Mac's in," echoed Paul Jones in tones of
alarm.
"Yes!"
Phil cut the word quick and short. His tone and the instantly still
greater speed of the car told all too plainly where his fears were running.
There was no need to rouse Link Fraley or the officers of Staretta. They
were astir watching the progress of the distant flames. Scores of men had
already gone to join the fire fighters, who, it was reported, had reached
the scene from Jacques' Mills, a settlement to the northwest that lay in
great danger, should the wind change.
The fire had been noticed only as clouds of smoke during the day, Link
Fraley said. In the afternoon messengers arrived saying that the blaze
was gaining great headway. It might yet be confined to a certain swampy
district, thick with dead trees and grass and a rank undergrowth of
rushes, now dry as tinder from the long drouth. It was here the fire
had started. Many men returned with the bearer of the news to aid in the
battle.
With sundown came the wind. There could be no stopping of the terrible
destruction so long as the gale increased, Link Fraley stated. The best
that any could hope for was that the blaze could be kept within a narrow
limit as it swept onward into the wholly unsettled country so saving the
little towns and mills along the railroad line.
But about MacLester--the hearts of the three boys sank like lead. Even
Sheriff Larsen said nothing could be done for him while so great a number
of lives were in jeopardy and every hand was needed to preserve them. He
was sorry--very sorry; but he believed and hoped Dave would escape in
safety, somehow, though there was not a thing that anyone could do at
once to help him or to aid his friends in finding him.
Perhaps he had been lured into the woods for purposes of robbery, or by
Murky, in a spirit of revenge; but even the much-needed attention of the
law to that dangerous character must wait, the sheriff said, until the
great fire could in some degree be overcome.
Awed and alarmed, their every nerve tense with a depth of interest and
anxiety such as few ever experience, the three friends listened to the
conversation of those about them. The principal crowd had gathered before
Fraley's store. Suddenly, from the partially lighted interior, Link
Fraley came. With a nod of his head he beckoned the Auto Boys aside.
"An Indian fellow--Doughnut Dan, they call him--has just come in from
up the line," said he, "and brings word that the fire will get south of
Opal Lake and no stoppin' it. Hadn't ye better go? Right now you'll be
ahead of it to the lake and no danger. Later on--and ye've got that Slider
chap on your hands back at your camp. Get him and get your stuff, and
get 'em quick."
"But MacLester! We can't----" began Way hurriedly.
"You've _got_ to! What can't be helped, can't be helped, but what _can_
be--that's what you got to think about and _right off_!"
"He's dead right, Phil, bad as it is," murmured Billy sorrowfully.
"It may be, but we'll----"
Whatever Way had meant to say, he spoke no further but quickly started
for the car. Paul and Billy followed and the latter took the wheel while
Phil re-lighted the gas lamps and Jones gave the crank a quick, quarter
turn.
When but little north of Staretta the three boys could see that all
the Indian had reported was true, and more than true. If the high wind
continued the whole district south of Opal Lake would be swept by the
fire within the next few hours.
But even in this estimate they were falling far short of the truth.
Every hour the wind blew harder. Great brands of fire were being carried
forward, starting constantly, and in hundreds of places, fresh bursts
of flame.
The car never traveled better than on this last night of its usefulness.
In but little more than twenty minutes the boys were driving through dense
volumes of almost stifling smoke. They were now well into the woods and
within the path of the flames' fiercely rapid advance.
As they went forward they discovered that the fire's main path would
probably be midway between the lake and the desolate country burned over
years before. But it would be spreading constantly. Nothing could check it.
Suddenly a feeble glimmer of light loomed out of the smoke and the
darkness forward. It was the glow of the lamps at Nels Anderson's.
"They'll never get out alive," called Phil. "Hold up, Billy!"
By the lights of the car, and from the windows and open door of the low,
unpainted house, the figures of Anderson and another man, and of Mrs.
Anderson and their little girl could be seen moving hurriedly in and out.
Phil sprang down to investigate.
The giant Swede, his family and their guest were carrying the household
goods of every kind to the very center of the small clearing. What they
feared was all too plain. But would their efforts count for anything?
Would their very lives be safe in this small space?
"I tank she will go nort of us," spoke Anderson, excitedly, as Phil
approached. "She must bane most at da lake now."
Obviously he referred to the fire. Before Phil could say more than that
he hoped the little clearing would escape the fire's main fury, at least,
the other man came up. He was the person in the golfing cap. Way was sure
of his identity instantly and his face grew hard.
"Have you been in town? How bad is this situation?" he asked calmly but
with a thoroughly business air.
"Ever so bad. You'll never be safe here," the boy answered with some
excitement. "You better----"
"No! the worst of it will be north of us," said the other quickly. "It
came up as if the whole woods had caught fire at once. We smelled and saw
the smoke in the afternoon. Nels and I were 'way west of here to see what
the danger was. We'd have been all right in this part but for the wind.
But you boys--are any of your party at the lake now? Because--you'll have
to move fast! Get back here to this clearing. If the fire keeps tending
north you'll be far safer here than on the water. There's no telling how
long it might keep you hemmed in there."
Much disturbed by the thought that even now Chip Slider might be in
gravest danger, Phil said hastily, "Thank you for all you say, at least,"
and hurried to the car.
"The worst of this is ahead of us! Get to the lake, Billy, quick!"
Again the trusted Thirty shot forward. The fire was still too distant to
be clearly seen among the trees, but the sky reflecting its red fury sent
down a glow which, but for the dense smoke, would have been like early
twilight. Still over ruts and roots, smooth spots and rough spots alike,
Billy drove, not carelessly, but very fast. Still the smoke-filled air
grew denser.
"The man is crazy! The fire may reach the lake, but Anderson's place will
be squarely in the path of the worst of it," cried Phil Way excitedly.
The boys were nearing their camp now, and the duller glow upon the sky
gave proof that the flames were more distant from here.
Poor Slider was found nearly beside himself with fear for the safety not
of himself but his new-found friends. He was resolutely at his post, and
the blazing campfire showed that he had not forgotten to keep going a
signal to Dave MacLester that the camp was not deserted, should he chance
to appear on the farther shore.
"We're the veriest blockheads!" said Phil Way, as he looked over the lake
and noted that here was the only place of real safety. "We've left the
Andersons to be suffocated if they aren't burned up. Who'll go with me
to bring 'em?"
"I'll go! Come on!" cried Paul, and Billy was not a second behind him.
"Wait!" Phil ordered. Then, "One of you stay here with Chip. Add all the
logs you can to the raft. Make it bigger, stronger! There'll be eight of
us, likely, that it will have to carry."
"Gee whiz! The car! The car, Phil! It'll be burned."
"No, it won't! Into the lake it goes. Water won't put it out of business
permanently. Billy, will you stay?"
"Go ahead!" cried Worth and in five seconds Phil was driving the
automobile in a way he had never done before.
Even before Anderson's place was reached the raging flames to the west
of the road lit up the narrow trail with a frightful glare. But on and
on the car flew.
The little clearing was reached in the nick of time. Great sparks and even
flaming branches were raining down upon it. The smoke was stifling.
Huddled under some kind of an old canvas,--a tent cloth from some
workman's camp on the gravel road, perhaps, Mrs. Anderson and the little
girl were trying to escape the smoke and terrific heat. The grass all
about the clearing was on fire. The little house must go, when the main
body of the flames came closer, and very doubtful did it look that life
itself could be saved in so exposed a place.
With a cry, "You can never come through the fire if you stay here,
people! We've come for you in the car! The lake! It's the only chance
of escape!" Phil made his presence known.
The roar and crackle and all the dreadful noise of the ocean of flame
that, as far as eye could see, flooded the woods to the west seemed quite
to drown the boy's loud shout.