A NARROW ESCAPE
As usual Dave Connors awoke to find himself alone in camp that morning.
Jack and Bart, his camping companions, had left at dawn and gone out
partridge hunting exactly as they had done every day since Dave fell down
into the gully and twisted his ankle. They were thoughtful enough to
leave the coffee pot within reach of Dave's cot, however, along with some
fried strips of bacon, bread and butter and a couple of boiled eggs, so
that the injured man did not have to hobble about to get his own
breakfast.
Dave dashed a cup of water over his hands and splashed a little in his
face by way of performing his toilet and then sitting on the edge of his
cot, proceeded to devour what was before him eagerly, for, although his
foot was injured, his appetite was entirely healthy.
"Um--m--m that was good," he muttered as he wiped his mouth on his sleeve
and looked down at his bandaged foot.
"Now if my old kick was in good order I'd go for a long tramp with a gun
but--Ah,--ouch--still sore and swollen. Guess I won't be able to hobble
about for a couple of days yet," he reflected as he felt of the injured
member.
Then steadying himself on the edge of the cot with the assistance of a
cane that Jack cut for him three days before, he hobbled to the tent
doorway and looked out.
"Jove, what a corking day! It's a shame I had to get laid up right at
the beginning of the trip. But I'll be all right in a couple of days and
I suppose I can stand it as long as my books hold out. But, blame it
all, look at this camp. Jack and Bart are the sloppiest fellows I ever
saw. Look at the blankets on the ground again and the papers scattered
everywhere. And look at the big fire they've left. What for, I wonder?
I wish I could get out there and clean up the place. I'll speak to them
to-night. I don't think such conditions are sanitary. I--I--ouch, blast
it, I can't clean up the place," and with a look of disgust the man from
Boston limped over to his camp chair and picked up the book that had held
his interest the day before.
How long he had been reading he did not know; perhaps an hour, perhaps
two. But suddenly he was aroused by a strange, unnatural cracking sound.
He looked up with a start, and his eyes dilated with horror at what he saw.
There, not ten feet from him, creeping and writhing through the dried
grass and leaves and darting long yellow tongues toward him menacingly,
wormed a streak of fire.
It was like a serpent that had crawled out of the embers and sought to
catch him unawares. Slowly it moved forward, fanned by the fall breeze
until it was a big V extending across the camp clearing, with each arm
burning.
On it advanced, licking up everything in its path. Here it consumed a
leaf, there a scrap of paper, and each time it devoured something it
waxed stronger and more threatening. Even while Dave sat there staring
at it, it reached a dried branch. With a crackle this burst into flame,
setting fire in turn to a sheet of newspaper nearby. Instantly this was
a burning torch. Dave tried to knock it out with his cane. But before
he could reach it a gust of wind seized and whirled it across the
opening, flinging it spitefully against a fir tree.
With a hiss and a crackling roar this blazed up. In a moment it was a
column of fire stretching skyward. The sight was terrible to behold.
Then like a whirlwind the arms of fire reached out and enveloped another
tree, and sparks flying with the wind lodged in a spruce nearby and
converted it into a roaring furnace. And thus in the space of a minute
a forest fire was started!
The scorching heat of the burning spruce brought Dave to his senses. He
saw before him a hideous fate. Heedless of the pain in his foot he
jumped up. His handkerchief be plunged into a pail of drinking water
just inside the tent door, then with this wrapped about his face and
mouth and with his stout cane in hand, he scrambled across the clearing
and into the long wood road that led eastward through the forest toward
the lake, half a mile distant.
Oh, if he could run! If he could only have the use of his injured foot
for fifteen minutes, he thought, as he limped on. Behind him he could
hear the roar of the fire as it reached out and gathered energy by
licking up tree after tree. The air was filled with smoke, pungent and
nauseating. All about in the forest on either side of the road livid
tongues upleaping, consuming everything and growing stronger every
moment.
On hobbled the man from Boston, trying desperately to make time; trying
mightily to cheat the fire demons that shrieked and roared behind him.
And he was not the only one that was fleeing from the seething furnace
that once had been a cool autumn woods. Three deer whisked by him like
flashes of the fire itself. Rabbits, skunks and foxes darted here and
there among the trees, all headed for the safety of the lake. And a big
black bear lumbered by, grunting with every gallop. How Dave envied
them. They would be safe. Would he?
Forward he hurried, braving excruciating pain in his injured limb to save
his life. Acrid smoke blasts swept down upon him and almost stifled him.
On every side he could feel the heat of the flames. Once a spark
dropped upon his shoulder and fired his shirt. With a cry he beat it out
and strove harder. The pain in his foot was unbearable. It made the
perspiration stand out upon his forehead. It made him whirl with
giddiness. But on he plunged, fighting the fire, the smoke and the pain
and striving his hardest to gain the lake.
Once he thought of Jack and Bart and grew very bitter, for somehow the
fire seemed the result of their carelessness. Would they be trapped by
it? They had two good strong legs. They would save themselves, he
hoped. So must he! Gritting his teeth and stifling a groan, he tried to
gallop, using the cane and injured foot in unison. It was painful, but
he must make time--he must go fast, faster.
The fire was close behind. It was gaining. He could hear its triumphant
roar. It would catch him soon. Only a few minutes and a fiery arm would
reach out like a python and wrap about him. The thought made him shudder.
"No! No! It must not reach me!" he cried in horror and leapt forward.
But his cane slipped and jammed between his legs. He tripped and lost
his balance. In a mad effort to save himself from falling he put his
injured foot forward. His entire weight came down upon it and the ankle
snapped. The pain was more than he could stand. With a cry of agony he
sank into a limp heap.
Bruce's startling revelation that there was a life to be saved spurred
the scouts to action. One more glance in the direction of the smoke pall
to the westward and in a twinkle every lad had his blanket in hand and
was sousing it into the lake. Handkerchiefs were doused too, for the
youngsters knew well that the smoke would soon be so thick that they would
need this kind of protection.
And while the rest were thus occupied, Bruce held a hasty conference with
Jiminy, and the two boys quickly cut scout staffs. With these in hand
they waved the troop forward and started off at a mad pace up the wood
road to meet the advancing forest fire.
On they raced, the smoke growing heavier and more pungent as they neared
the flames. They could hear the deep toned muttering of the
conflagration. And all the way along the road they were breasting a tide
of forest dwellers, deer, rabbit, bears, and a host of smaller animals,
all scurrying away from the roaring doom behind them.
Soon the lads were in the zone of flying sparks. Here and there along
the road small fires were being started. These were quickly beaten out,
for the boys were determined not to have their retreat cut off. As they
moved forward Bruce's heart grew heavy, for he could see that already the
flames had swept by the camping site of Dave Connors and his companions.
The patrol leader hoped fervently that the injured youth had been able to
keep ahead of the rushing fire.
They were approaching the fire belt. Their eyes smarted from the smoke.
They could feel the heat on every hand. They pulled their hats low to
protect their foreheads and pushed on. Fire was everywhere. Here and
there pine trees burst into flames with a hiss and a roar, and now and
then blazing branches would come hurling through space to fall with a
crash in the roadway.
Bruce began to be worried. Had he brought the scouts out on a dangerous
but useless mission? Had Dave Connors come down the wood road, or had he
gone wandering blindly through the forest to be trapped and burned to
death? Perhaps even now he was a charred mass somewhere back there in
that seething forest. The smoke was so thick that the boys could not see
two feet ahead of them, but they struggled forward, beating out menacing
tongues of flames on every hand, hoping to keep the roadway open for a
retreat.
Through the smoke they groped; bending low and breathing through their
wet handkerchiefs. Their eyes burned. Their lungs pained with the gases
they had inhaled, but they pushed on until suddenly with a cry Bruce
stumbled and pitched forward.
But he was on his feet in an instant, and examining the apparently
lifeless mass in the roadway that had tripped him. Then with a shout of
delight, he summoned Jiminy and in an instant a coat stretcher was made
with the aid of the scout staffs they had cut. Then with the limp form
of Dave Connors between them the two scouts started struggling back
toward the lake. Away from the fire they raced with the troop behind
them still beating out the menacing sparks and flames.
Forward they hurried, but as they advanced this time their way grew
easier and the smoke less pungent. Soon they were among the refugees
again. Rabbits, mink and foxes scuttled along with them, and the boys
had to turn out to keep from treading on some of the smaller animals who
could not travel as fast as their bigger woods neighbors. The heat of
the fire was left behind and falling sparks no longer bothered them.
Their way to the lake was clear.
A few minutes later they reached the knoll upon which their lumber camp
was being constructed. Here they paused long enough to permit Bruce and
Jiminy to administer first aid to the unconscious Dave Connors. And
while the lads were reviving him, others gathered together hatchets,
axes, cooking utensils and whatever else they could conveniently carry,
and bidding farewell to their doomed camp they made ready for a plunge
into the shallows of the lake.
All that afternoon and a good part of the evening, the scouts stood
shoulder deep in the cool waters and watched the landscape burn. Acres
and acres of woodland with thousands of dollars' worth of timber was
consumed before their eyes. Dave watched it sadly, for he knew that all
this ruin had been wrought by him and his careless camping companions.
Every shallow of the lake was crowded with animal life of all kinds, and
the lads knew that thousands of forest dwellers must have perished in
that inferno. They stood among deer and bears and other more timid
forest dwellers, but the fear of man and the natural enmity toward each
other was completely blotted out by the greater fear of the fire, and a
seeming sense of comradeship born of common danger.
Night came, and the sky was a livid pink. The lake had checked the
fire's advance to the eastward and the wind had driven the flames north
toward the mountains. Further and further away traveled the flames
painting the sky a sinister color and producing a spectacle that the
scouts never forgot.
At midnight, though the woods still smoldered, the boys contemplated
leaving the shallows in which they had been standing and going ashore,
for they argued that if the heat from the embers was not too intense they
could work along the margin of the lake until they reached the opposite
shore.
But while they were contemplating this, off across the lake they saw
lights advancing toward them. They heard shouts, too, and they shouted
in answer, and it was not long before they had guided a flotilla of small
boats toward them. This proved to be a rescuing party organized and
headed by the anxious Mr. Ford and old Dr. Lyman, who were almost
distracted until they made doubly certain that every lad was safe and
whole of limb and body.