A FIERY GIRDLE.
In less than twenty minutes the leaders of the approaching party were
within plain sight of the conflagration, and paused for a hurried
survey of the wild scene. The fire had gained great headway, and every
moment was of priceless value. Starting in a piece of brushwood to
the south of the small stream, it had spread to the right and left,
crossing the Cohas in half a dozen places, and now was menacing the
homes of several colonists in the vicinity.
The foremost of the comers, as cool and collected as at the outset, was
the Woodranger, and it was he who first comprehended the situation and
formed a plan of action.
“Half a dozen o’ you come with me to the defence o’ the houses,” he
said, in a tone heard plainly above the roar of the fire. “The rest
divide into two parties, and going ahead of the columns o’ fire, on the
east and west, dig trenches, so as to stop the flames both ways. A few
men along the road ought to keep the fire from crossing it.”
Captain Goffe quickly led a gang to do the fighting of the fire on the
east, while Alexander McMurphy, with as many more men, went to the
south on the Londonderry line. Others remained to guard the road, while
the Woodranger and ten others rushed to save the threatened houses.
Norman, Rob Rogers, and Johnny Goffe joined this last party.
It was soon found that the owners of the dwellings had already left
them, taking with them to a safe distance all they could of their
household effects. With such rude tools as the colonists had to work
with, home-made hoes and shovels, the rescuers began to dig trenches
around the menaced homes, and to clear away whatever combustible matter
lay in the way.
They had barely begun, however, when the wind shifted, so as to drive
the fire directly down upon them. A portion of the men retreated back
into the woods, unable to stand the heat.
Seeing that the Woodranger showed no signs of giving up, Norman held
to his post, digging with renewed vigour, though the smoke encircled
him and the heat fairly took away his breath. It was terrible working
there, but so long as any of his companions stood the test, he was
determined not to give up. He knew Robert and Johnny were keeping
stubbornly at their digging.
The fire licked up the underbrush like chaff, hissing, crackling,
roaring with demoniac glee, as it spread through the dwarf pitch-pines,
or leaped up the tall monarchs of the forest faster than the most
nimble wildcat or the swiftest bird, until the doomed giant would be
enveloped in a fiery shroud, the crimson folds of which twisted and
fluttered in fantastic shapes, or leaped high into the air, making a
grand, but terrible, spectacle.
The air was filled with bewildered birds driven from their retreats
in the woods, while snakes and other creeping things glided hither
and thither in a wild race away from the pursuing flames. The cries
and hisses of the terrified creatures added to the horror of the
conflagration.
In the midst of the exciting work the Woodranger called to his
companions to seize the pine brushes they had provided themselves with
in case of an emergency, and go with him to help fight back the fire
which was crossing the danger line below them.
The three boys quickly obeyed the forester, and some of those who had
previously sought flight now returned to battle manfully beside them.
In this way the flames were baffled in their attempt to reach the
houses. As if maddened by this repulse, the conflagration suddenly
swerved to the right.
“The wind didn’t change any too soon,” declared the Woodranger, as he
stopped to wipe his perspiring brow. “Rest a bit, lads; you did nobly.
Unless I’m mistaken, and no man has the knack o’ telling what a fire
may do next, there is leetle to fear here now. If the wind does take a
notion to send it back, it cannot make the showing it did before. It
is swinging around toward Perham’s. Lads, you had better run out to
that opening and make a stand. The rest o’ you may come with me. If we
can hold it in check fifteen minutes longer, I opine the worst will be
over.”
The opening in question was a clearing of about three acres in extent,
which had been sown with barley, and the grain was then ripe for the
scythe. Norman led the way to the upper side of this field, where the
three found themselves with their hands full. A manful fight enabled
them to keep back the encroaching flames, until a shrill scream rang in
their ears, and caused them to pause in their wild work long enough to
glance around for the object of the alarm.
The flames beat down upon them so at that moment that they were obliged
to retreat toward the centre of the opening. As soon as the smoke had
cleared from their eyes sufficiently for them to look about, they found
themselves beside a big rock-pile, which Mr. Perham had heaped up in
clearing his land.
Upon the top of the stone heap they were startled to find a girl,
about a dozen years old, crouching on the rocks, too terrified to move
or speak, except to utter her heartrending screams. She had started
to cross the clearing, and suddenly found herself surrounded by the
conflagration; for, unnoticed by the boys in their excitement, the fire
had swept around to the lower side of the clearing, so they were all
encircled by a fiery girdle. Licking up the ripe barley, like shavings
strewn in its pathway, the flames were rushing toward them with the
speed of a race-horse.
“We are lost!” cried Johnny Goffe. “We shall be burned to death!”
Knowing that they could not long remain there, though it would be
equally futile to try to break through the fiery circle, Norman sprang
up the rock-pile, and caught the trembling girl in his arms. If he
could escape himself he was determined to save her. How it was to be
done he had no idea.
As he descended with his burden, wild shrieks of despair came from
outside the circle of flames. It was the child’s mother calling for her
lost little one! It was a moment none of them would ever forget. Under
the dark pall of the lowering smoke, Rob and Johnny gazed on each other
in silent terror. But a most unexpected way of deliverance was opened
to them.
In reaching little Alice Perham, Norman dislodged a round stone from
the pile, which went bounding down to the edge of the fire. Then into
the fiery girdle it went, making for itself a narrow pathway, as it
crushed down the grain and extinguished the blaze where it tore up the
loose earth.
Norman saw the effect, and, seating Alice safely one side, with a glad
shout he began to roll other stones that way, calling on his companions
to do the same.
“Keep them in one track as much as you can, and we will soon have a
path for us to follow.”
The second stone rolling through the gap of the first, crushing more of
the barley into the light earth, made the rent wider. Robert and Johnny
quickly followed Norman’s example, and for a brief while a perfect
shower of rocks went bounding down the hillside, until a considerable
opening had been torn in the blazing band. But the flames were getting
so near on other quarters that it was impossible for the boys to remain
there longer.
“Now’s our time!” cried Norman, catching Alice again in his arms.
“Follow me!”
Running at the top of their speed, they soon burst through the burning
barrier into the group of excited women and children which had huddled
together just out of reach of the conflagration.
Their clothes torn and burned in places and their hair pretty badly
singed and skin blistered, the boys presented a sorry appearance. As
Norman had protected her somewhat by his jacket, Alice had escaped with
the least injury. But no one had received any serious harm, and, like
the rugged boys they were, they thought little of their slight burns.
Mrs. Perham, who, a minute before, had been wringing her hands and
shedding scalding tears of grief, was now crying with joy, as she held
Alice in her arms.
The women and children had nearly all gathered in this vicinity, and as
the wind continued to carry the fire away from that quarter there was
little trouble in stopping its advance. In other places, too, the men
were getting control of the conflagration, so fifteen minutes later the
fighting was practically over, unless the fire should break out in some
new section.
Though of brief duration, it had been hot work while it had lasted, so
one and all were glad to drop upon the ground wherever they might be,
or seek some more comfortable resting-place, until they should regain
something of their wasted vigour.
The shooting-match was quite forgotten for the time being, and even the
rancorous feeling, resulting from it, unheeded as the rival colonists
talked of the great danger which had been barely averted by their
timely and almost superhuman efforts.
“It was well we came to the fire in a body,” declared the Woodranger,
who had suffered less from his exertions than any one else, though no
man had equalled him in effective work. “So many coming at once fresh
for the fight could do more than four times the number coming singly or
in pairs. I ’low continual dropping will wear away a stone, but fire
isn’t to be worn out in that way. It is a matter of thanksgiving that
no lives were lost,” and every one agreed with him.
Norman was generously praised for his rescue of Alice Perham, and he
was urged to remain until he had entirely recovered from his exertions.
But he knew his grandfather and Rilma would be anxiously awaiting him,
so he started homeward at once. As it was not considered safe to leave
the fire without watchers, to see it did not catch in some new place,
the Woodranger volunteered his services.
Having escaped so easily the charges brought against him by Gunwad,
Norman felt in good spirits, notwithstanding his recent experience. He
often found himself thinking of his new-found friend, the Woodranger,
and he could not help wondering why the singular man had taken such an
interest in him. The pleasant reflections filling his mind made him
poorly prepared to meet the startling intelligence his grandfather was
trembling to communicate to him the moment he should appear. That Rilma
should not hear it, he had stood for an hour anxiously awaiting him by
the river’s bank where he had parted from him in the morning.