THE ESCAPE
There was a sudden commotion in the motley crowd. The tall figure
between the two rough-looking men wrenched suddenly free, and dashed,
head down, toward the lake.
One or two made a faint-hearted attempt to stop him, put out a hand or a
leg to trip him. The men who had been his captors started in pursuit,
but the hot breath of the fire enveloped them and drove them toward the
safety of the water.
Darry—for there was no doubt now that it was he—kept on running in the
direction of the lodge, and the girls and boys, forgetful of everything
but joy at the sight of him, dropped everything and ran to meet him.
It was Amy who reached him first, and she flung herself into his arms
and clung to him, sobbing hysterically.
“Darry, Darry, where have you been? We thought they had killed you! We
looked for you everywhere!”
Darry patted her reassuringly and gently unclasped her arms from about
his neck. The others had reached them by this time and had flung
themselves upon Darry with a score of eager questions.
He held them off laughingly and motioned toward the scene of the fire.
“Never mind about me,” he said. “I can tell you my experiences later,
after the fire is conquered. Looks as if we were pretty badly needed
over there.”
It needed only one hasty glance over their shoulders to assure them that
he was right. The fire, with the impetus of the wind behind it, was
sweeping onward with renewed vigor. Once more the lodge and all the
buildings along the lake front were menaced.
Led by Darry, the young folks returned once more to the fight. They
longed to ask him questions and have them answered, but during that next
strenuous hour there was time for nothing but concerted desperate effort
to fight off the encroaching flames.
Where the fire had crept forward steadily, but slowly, before, it now
leaped ahead, seeming to mock at the puny efforts of the men who sought
to defeat it.
It ran up into branches of trees over their heads, reached scorching
fingers across the trenches dug to stay its advance, crackled gleefully
in the dry and brittle underbrush.
Once Jessie felt a touch on her arm and looked up to see Darry standing
beside her.
“Better get back to the lodge,” he said. “It won’t be long before we’ll
have to take to the water.”
“Things are all packed and ready to put into the boats,” she told him
gaspingly. “Don’t want to go back—till we have to, Darry.”
“Good sports, you girls,” muttered Darry, and reached for the pick with
which he had been helping dig a new trench.
It was all of no use. The girls realized that even before Miss Alling
gave definite orders to return to the lodge. The fire was gaining so
rapidly that it was only a matter of a short time before they would be
forced to abandon the lodge.
Wearily they turned away while the forest rangers still fought on with
grim determination. They would not give up the battle until the last
defense had fallen.
Once within the lodge, Burd sank into a chair with a groan of pain he
could no longer suppress. But even then, when the girls wanted to take
off his boot and examine the injured ankle, he would not let them.
“Time enough for that,” he said, in almost the same words Darry had
used, “when the fire is out.”
The dancing flames of the fire filled the interior of the lodge with a
weird red glow. The air was heavy and thick with the stifling smoke.
“Better take to the boats right away,” said Darry, coming in from a last
survey of the burning forest. “The air in here is getting pretty rank.”
“The radio first, girls,” said Jessie, gathering up as much of the
dismantled apparatus as she could carry. “We can come back for our
clothes later on.”
They were carrying the first load of things into the open when Amy
noticed that the air was not so thick with smoke. With a cry of elation
she called Jessie’s attention to the fact that once more the wind had
shifted.
“And it is starting to rain!” exclaimed Fol, showing them a large drop
on the back of his hand. “Now, that is what I call luck!”
The rain fell gently at first, but finally came down in a sheeting
torrent that hissed into the boiling caldron of the fire and eventually
reduced it to a sea of smoldering embers.
Forest Lodge was saved! In the grip of reaction and utter weariness, the
girls and boys reentered the lodge, dropped into the big chairs, and
propped weary heads on blistered and blackened hands.
Miss Alling, seeing the state of affairs, herself perilously near the
point of exhaustion, bound up their injuries, treated Burd’s swollen and
painful ankle, and then packed them all off to bed.
For once they were all glad to obey her, and from then until long past
dinner time that evening, they slept heavily, exhaustedly.
The rain which had proved their salvation continued to beat down
soddenly, and when Jessie finally opened her eyes she thought they had
never looked upon so dreary a prospect.
Through her window, she could see, from where she lay upon the bed, the
blackened, ravaged trunks of what had once been monarchs of the forest.
The smoke from wet embers still depressingly filled the air and the rain
beat down with a steady, monotonously mournful sound.
Slowly the kaleidoscopic events of the day came back to her, and when
she thought of Darry and realized that he was no longer in danger but
safe with the boys in the cottage only a few feet away, her depression
vanished magically and she ran into the other room to shake the
still-sleeping Amy into wakefulness.
“Ouch, my arm hurts,” grumbled Amy, reluctantly opening one eye. “Oh,
it’s you, Jess,” she added, showing a little more animation. “What do
you want? Is the forest on fire again?”
At the word “fire,” Nell sat up with a start and a cry of alarm but,
reassured by the sound of the storm, turned and smiled at the girls
sheepishly.
“Listen!” Jessie commanded suddenly, as there came to her the sounds of
footsteps without and the opening of the front door. “There are the
boys, I guess.”
“They smelled the dinner cooking,” said Amy, still in a grumbling humor.
“They never come near us unless they have something to gain by it.” They
found the boys in high spirits, despite the fact that singed hair and
eyebrows, an occasional bandaged hand or ear and Burd’s swollen and
painful ankle made vivid reference to the perils of that day.
The girls were quick to sense beneath their hilarity an undercurrent of
intense excitement.
“Look where the conquering heroines come,” Burd greeted them, trying to
rise and sinking back again with an exclamation of annoyance at the
sharp twinge in his ankle.
“Heroines!” repeated Jessie, with a chuckle. “We feel more like the
battered victims of a wreck.”