The Motor Rangers Through the Sierras

  CHAPTER XXI.

  THE FIRE IN THE FOREST.

  "Why, that smoke's coming up from those trees!" declared Nat as theytopped the rise, and saw below them the familiar panorama of undulatingmountain tops, spreading to the sky line in seeming unending billows.

  Sure enough, as he said, the smoke was coming from some greattimber-clad slopes directly in front of them.

  "May be some more campers," suggested Joe.

  "Not likely," said Cal gravely, "no campers would light a fire bigenough to make all that smoke."

  Nat did not reply, being too busy applying the brakes as the roadtook a sudden steep pitch downward. At the bottom of the dip was abridge, made after the fashion of most mountain bridges in those remoteregions. That is to say, two long logs had been felled to span theabyss the bridge crossed. Then across these string pieces, had beenlaid other logs close together. The contrivance seemed hardly wideenough to allow the auto to cross. Grinding down his brakes Nat broughtthe machine to a halt.

  "I guess we'd better have a look at that bridge before we try to crossit," he said, turning to Cal.

  "Right you are, boy," assented the ex-stage driver, getting out, "thisgasolene gig is a sight heavier than anything that bridge was everbuilt for. Come on, Joe, we'll take a look at it."

  Accompanied by the young Motor Ranger the Westerner set off at hisswinging stride down the few paces between the auto and the bridge.Lying on his stomach at the edge of the brink, he gazed over andcarefully examined the supports of the bridge and the manner in whichthey were embedded in the earth on either side.

  Then he and Joe jumped up and down on the contrivance and gave it everytest they could.

  "I guess it will be all right," said Cal, as he rejoined the party.

  "You guess?" said Nat, "say, Cal, if your guess is wrong we're in for anasty tumble."

  "Wall, then I'm sure," amended the former stage driver, "I've driv'stage enough to know what a bridge 'ull hold I guess, and that spanyonder will carry this car over in good shape. How about it, Joe?"

  "It'll be all right, Nat," Joe assured his chum, "in any case we arejustified in taking a chance, for after what you told us about thecolonel's gang it would be dangerous to go back again."

  "That's so," agreed Nat, "now then, all hold tight, for I'm going to goahead at a good clip. Hang on to Bismark, Herr Muller."

  "I holdt on py him like he voss my long lost brudder," the Germanassured him.

  Forward plunged the auto, Bismark almost jerking Herr Muller out ofthe tonneau as his head rope tightened. The next instant the car wasthundering upon the doubtful bridge. A thrill went through every one ofthe party as the instant the entire weight of the heavy vehicle wasplaced upon it the flimsy structure gave a distinct sag.

  "Let her have it, Nat!" yelled Cal, "or we're gone coons!"

  There was a rending, cracking sound, as Nat responded, and the carleaped forward like a live thing. But as the auto bounded forward tosafety Bismark hung back, shaking his head stubbornly. Herr Muller,caught by surprise, was jerked half out of the tonneau and was inimminent peril of being carried over and toppling into the chasm. ButJoe grasped his legs firmly while Cal struck the rope--to which theTeuton obstinately held--out of his hands.

  "Bismark! Come back!" wailed the German as the released horse turnedswiftly on the rickety bridge and galloped madly back in the directionfrom which they had come.

  But the horse, which was without saddle or bridle, both having beenplaced in the car when they started out, paid no attention to hisowner's impassioned cry. Flinging up his heels he soon vanished in acloud of dust over the hilltop.

  "Turn round der auto. Vee go pack after him," yelled the German.

  "Not much we won't," retorted Cal indignantly, "that plug of yours isheaded for his old home. You wouldn't get him across that bridge if youbuilt a fire under him."

  "And I certainly wouldn't try to recross it with this car," said Nat.

  "I should say not," put in Joe, "why we could feel the thing give wayas our weight came on it."

  "Goodt pye, Bismark, mein faithful lager--charger I mean," wailed HerrMuller, "I nefer see you again."

  "Oh yes, you will," comforted Cal, seeing the German's real distress,"he'll go right home to the hotel stable that he come frum. You'll see.The man that owns it is honest as daylight and ef you don't come backfer the horse he'll send you yer money."

  "Put poor Bismark will starfe!" wailed the Teuton.

  "Not he," chuckled Cal, "between here and Lariat is all fine grazingcountry, and there's lots of water. He'll get back fatter than he cameout."

  "Dot is more than I'll do," wailed Herr Muller resignedly as Nat setthe auto in motion once more and they left behind them the weakenedbridge.

  "No auto 'ull ever go over that agin," commented Cal, looking back.

  "Not unless it has an aeroplane attachment," added Joe.

  But their attention now was all centred on the smoke that rose in frontof them. The bridge had lain in a small depression so that they hadnot been able to see far beyond it, but as they rolled over the browof the hill beyond, the cause of the uprising of the vapor soon becamealarmingly apparent.

  A pungent smell was in the air.

  "Smells like the punks on Fourth of July," said Joe, as he sniffed.

  But joking was far from Cal's mind as he gazed through narrowed eyes.The smoke which had at first not been much more than a pillar, was nowa vast volume of dark vapor rolling up crowdedly from the forests aheadof them. Worse still, the wind was sweeping the fire down toward thetrack they had to traverse.

  "The woods are on fire!" cried Nat as he gazed, and voicing the fearthat now held them all.

  As he spoke, from out of the midst of the dark, rolling clouds ofsmoke, there shot up a bright, wavering flame. It instantly died downagain, but presently another fiery sword flashed up, in a differentdirection, and hung above the dark woods. They could now hear quitedistinctly, too, the sound of heavy, booming falls as big treessuccumbed to the fire and fell with a mighty crash.

  "Great Scott, what are we going to do?" gasped Joe.

  "T-t-t-t-turn b-b-b-back!" said Ding-dong as if that settled the matter.

  "Py all means," chimed in Herr Muller, gazing ahead at theawe-inspiring spectacle.

  "How are you going to do that when that bridge won't hold us?" askedNat. "Do you think we can beat the fire to the trail, Cal?"

  "We've gotter," was the brief, but comprehensive rejoinder.

  "But if we don't?" wailed Ding-dong.

  "Ef you can't find nothing ter say but that, jus' shut yer mouth,"warned Cal in a sharp tone.

  His face was drawn and anxious. He was too old a mountaineer not torealize to a far greater extent than the boys the nature of the perilthat environed them. His acute mind had already weighed the situationin all its bearings. In no quarter could he find a trace of hope,except in going right onward and trusting to their speed to beat theflames.

  True, they might have turned back and waited by the bridge, but thewoods grew right up to the trail, and it would be only a matter of timein all probability before the flames reached there. In that case theMotor Rangers would have been in almost as grave a peril as they wouldby going on. The fire was nearly two miles from where they were, butCal knew full well the almost incredible rapidity with which theseconflagrations leap from tree to tree, bridging trails, roads, and evenbroad rivers. It has been said that the man or boy who starts a forestfire is an enemy to his race, and truly to any one that has witnessedthe awful speed with which these fires devour timber and threaten bigranges of country, the observation must ever seem a just one.

  "Can't we turn off and outflank the flames?" asked Joe, as they sped onat as fast a pace as Nat dared to urge the car over the rough trail.

  Cal's answer was a wave of his hand to the thickset trees on eitherside. Even had it not been for the danger of fire reaching them beforethey could outflank it, the trunks were too close together to permit ofany vehicle threading its way
amidst them.

  There was but little conversation in the car as it roared on, leapingand careering over rocks and obstructions like a small boat in a heavysea. The Motor Rangers were engaged in the most desperate race of theirlives. As they sped along the eyes of all were glued on the trailahead, with its towering walls of mighty pines and about whose baseschaparral and inflammable brush grew closely.

  The air was perceptibly warmer now, and once or twice a spark was blowninto the car. Not the least awe-inspiring feature of a forest fire inthe mountains is the mighty booming of the great trunks as they fall.It is as impressive as a funeral march.

  "Ouch, somebody burned my hand!" exclaimed Joe suddenly.

  But gazing down he saw that a big ember had lit on the back of it. Heglanced up and noticed that the air above them was now full of thedriving fire-brands. Overhead the dun-colored smoke was racing by likea succession of tempest-driven storm clouds. A sinister gloom was inthe air.

  Suddenly, Cal, who had been half standing, gazing intently ahead, gavea loud shout and pointed in front of them. The others as they gazedechoed his cry of alarm.