Boy With the U. S. Foresters

  CHAPTER XV

  THE FOREST ABLAZE

  As Wilbur broke into a steady, if fast pace, it seemed to him that allhis previous experiences in the forest had been directed to this oneend. True, once before, he had seen smoke in the distance and had riddento it, but then he had felt that it was a small fire which he would beable to put out, as indeed it had proved. But now, while there was nogreater cloud of smoke visible than there had been before, the boy feltthat this was in some measure different.

  As his horse's hoofs clattered on the trail, it seemed to his excitedfancy that every inch of ground was crying to the valley below, "He'scoming," the wind that blew past him seemed filled with purpose, everyeddying gust awoke in him a greater desire to reach the place of dangerbefore the wind should rise to higher gusts, and as the needles of thepines whispered overhead it seemed to Wilbur that they murmured, "Hurry,hurry, if you want to be there on time." Over and over again, he foundhimself on the point of using the whip or spurs to induce a greaterburst of speed, but as often as he did so, the old short, curtly-wordedcounsels of Merritt came back to him, never to press his horse if theride was to be of any length, and he grew to believe that the animalknew as well as the rider the errand on which he was bound.

  He had thought, before starting, of riding back to his camp andtelephoning to Rifle-Eye, but the knowledge that after all it might be alittle fire kept him back. All the tales that he had ever heard aboutforest fires rushed through his mind, but he resolutely set them asideto watch his horse's path, to hold him in where he would be apt tostumble, to give him his head on rising ground, and to bring him tospeed where the trail was easy to follow. Two hours he rode, his horsewell in hand, until he came to the place where he had decided from hislookout point that he would have to leave the trail and plunge throughthe forest itself.

  This was a very different matter, and Wilbur found himself wondering howhis horse kept his footing. He was not riding Kit, for which he wasglad, as in leaving the trail and plunging downhill he had struck someparts of the forest where undergrowth was present, and his favoritemare's slender legs would have been badly scratched. Also the footinggrew dangerous and uncertain. There had been many windfalls in theforest, and now was no time to take them quietly; a flying leap, notknowing what might be on the other side, a stumble, perhaps, which sentthe boy's heart into his mouth, a quick recovery, and they were offagain, only to find, perhaps, a few yards further on, a bowlder-strewngully which it would have been madness to take at other than a walk. Butthe boy chafed terribly at each and every stay to his ride, and he hadto hold himself in hand as much as he had his horse.

  Little by little the exhilaration of the ride stole into his veins. Hewas alone in the forest, he and his horse, the world was all before, andhe must ride and ride. He shouted as he rode under the towering pines,raced across a clearing with a whoop that roused the echoes, and yelledfor sheer delight in the mad ride through the untraveled forest, where,as the knights of old, he rode forth to conquer and to do.

  But a sudden, sharp, acrid whiff of vapor in his nostrils checked hisriotous impulses. It was one thing to ride out to meet the foe, it wasanother matter when the foe was known to be near. A half mile nearer andthe acrid taste in the air turned to a defined veil of smoke, intangibleand unreal, at first, which merely seemed to hang about the trunks ofthe mighty trees and make them seem dim and far away. Nearer yet, andthe air grew hard to breathe, the smoke was billowing through thefoliage of the pines, which sighed wearily and moaned in a vague fear ofthe enemy they dreaded most.

  A curving gully, too wide to leap, too deep to cross readily, haddeflected the boy in his ride until he found himself to the lee of thefire, and the heat of it, oppressive and menacing, assailed him.

  Remembering the lay of the land, as he had seen it from his lookoutpoint, Wilbur recalled the fact that no peak or rise was in the vicinityup which he could ride to gain a nearer view of the fire, and he did notdare to ride on and find himself on the windward side of the fire, forthen his efforts to hold it back would be unavailing. He rode slowlytill he came to the highest tree near. Then, dismounting, Wilbur tiedhis horse to the foot of the tree, tied him as securely as he knew how,for the animal was snorting in fear at being thus fastened up when thesmoke was over his head and the smell of the fire was in his nostrils.Then, buckling on his climbing irons, which he had carried with him thatmorning because he had thought, if he had time, he might do a littlerepairing to his telephone line, he started up the side of the greattree. Up and up he went, fifty, sixty, one hundred feet, and still hewas not at the top; another twenty feet, and there far above the ground,he rested at last upon a branch whence he could command an outlook uponthe forest below.

  The fire was near, much nearer than he had imagined, and had he riddenon another ten or fifteen minutes, he might have taken his horse indanger. The blaze was larger than he thought. For half a mile's length,at least, the smoke was rising, and what was beyond he could not rightlysee, because the branches of a large tree obscured his sight.

  Immediately below him, the little gully, whose curving course had turnedhim from the straight path, seemed to be the edge of the flames, whichhad not been able to back up over the water. On this side, clear down tothe water's edge the forest floor was burning, but how wide a stretchhad been burned over he could not see. Once on the other side of thegully he would be able to judge better what to do.

  Below his horse neighed shrilly.

  Looking straight down, Wilbur noted a long rolling curl of smoke stealswiftly along the ground a few hundred yards away, and he saw there wasno time to lose. Springing from the branch to the trunk of the tree, hestarted to climb down. But he was over-hurried, and his feet slipped. Itwas only a foot at most, and Wilbur was not easily frightened, but heturned cold and sick for an instant as he looked below and saw theheight from which he so nearly had fallen. Minutes, nay seconds, wereprecious, but he crawled back upon the branch and sat still a moment tosteady his nerves. So startling a shock for so small a slip! He feltthoroughly ashamed of himself, but it had been quite a jolt.

  Again the horse neighed, and the fear in the cry was quite unmistakable.Gingerly this time, Wilbur left the kindly support of the branch andmade his way down the trunk of the tree, heaving a sigh of profoundthankfulness when he reached the ground. His horse looked at him witheyes wild with terror and every muscle atwitch. It was the work of amoment to unfasten the ropes and vault in the saddle, but Wilbur neededall his horsemanship to keep the horse from bolting. Indeed, he didstart to run away with the boy, but Wilbur sawed him into a more normalpace and headed him down the gully.

  Although the weather had been dry, it seemed that not a few springs mustflow above, for there was quite a stream of water, not deep, but rushingvery swiftly, and consequently hiding the bottom of the stream. It wasno time for looking for a ford, and so, after leading the horse down thebank by the bridle, Wilbur got into the saddle to put the horse across.He would not budge. Every muscle and nerve was tense, and the fire,owing to the curvature of the stream, seeming to come from the otherside, the horse refused to move. Wilbur dug in heavily with the spurs.The horse would not move. Again Wilbur used the spurs. Then, snatchingthe quirt that was fastened on his saddle, the quirt the cattleman hadgiven him after his ride in the cattle stampede, he laid it with all hiswill across the horse's flanks. Never before, since Wilbur had owned thehorse, had he struck him. Frantic, the horse leaped into the stream.It was deeper than the boy had thought, but there was no time to goback, and indeed, unless it was taken at a rush, the horse would notclimb the other bank. As they struck the water, therefore, Wilbur rosein his stirrups and lashed the horse a second time. He felt the horseplunge under him, picked him up with the reins as he stumbled on theloose stones in the creek bed and almost fell, and though he wasbecoming a rider, "hunted leather" by holding on to the pommel of hissaddle, as the horse with two or three convulsive lunges climbed like acat up the opposing bank, and reached the top, trembling in every limb.The gully
was crossed.

  But there was no time to pause for satisfaction over the crossing of thelittle stream; that was only the beginning. It would have to be crossedagain, higher up, as soon, as they came opposite to the fire. The quirtwas still in his hand, and a light touch with it brought the horse to afull gallop. Up along the gully, with the blackened forest floor on theother side, rode Wilbur, until he came to the further end of the fire.It was almost a mile long. Right where the edge of the fire was, withlittle flames leaping among the needles and the smoke rolling, Wilburheaded the horse for the creek. He expected to have trouble, but thebeast had learned his lesson, and went steadily down the creek and overto the other side. The return was in nowise difficult, as it was on theside opposite the fire that the bank was steep. Hastily Wilbur tied uphis horse on the burned-out area, seized his shovel, and started alongthe line of the fire, beating it out with the flat of his shovel wherethe flames were small, then going to lee of it he made a firebreak byturning up a narrow line of earth.

  His hands began to blister and his lips grew so parched that he couldendure it no longer, and snatched a moment to go back to the stream andlave his face and hands. He took off his coat, dipped it in the water,and came with it all dripping to beat out the fire with that. Foot byfoot and yard by yard he worked his way along the line, every once in awhile running back over the part he had already beaten to make sure thatall was out. The afternoon was drawing on and for about a quarter of amile the fire was entirely out, and for another quarter it was almostunder control.

  Madly the boy worked, his breath coming in gasps, his lungs aching fromthe smoke, so that it became agony even to breathe, the ground hotbeneath his feet, and his feet beginning to blister, as his hands haddone an hour before, but there was no let-up. He had come to fight fire,and he would fight fire. Another mad hour's battle, not so successfully,and, contrary to the usual custom, the wind began to rise at sunset; itmight die down in a couple of hours, but in the meantime damage might bedone.

  Little by little the shadows grew deeper, and before it got entirelydark Wilbur tried, but vainly, to reach the end of the line, for he knewwell that if a night wind rose and got a hold upon the remnant of thefire that remained all his work would go for nothing. With all his mighthe ran to the far end of the line, determining to work from that end upto meet the area where he had conquered. Foot by foot he gained, but nolonger was he able to work along a straight line, the gusts of wind,here and there, sweeping through the trees had fanned stretches, perhapsonly a few yards wide, but had driven them forward a hundred feet. Butas it grew darker the wind began to fall again, though with the darknessthe red glow of the burning needles and the flames of the burning twigsshowed more luridly and made it seem more terrifying. Still he gainedheadway, foot after foot jealously contesting the battle with the fireand the wind.

  So short a space remaining, and though he seemed too tired and sore tomove, still his shovel worked with never a pause, still he scraped awayall that would burn from the path of a little line of flame. The line offlame grew shorter, but even as he looked a gust came along, which swepta tongue of fire fifty yards at a breath. Wilbur rushed after it,knowing the danger of these side-way fires, but before that gust hadlulled the tongue of fire reached a little clearing which the boy hadnot known was there, only a rod or two of grass, but that browned by thesun and the drought until it seemed scarcely more than tinder. If itshould touch that!

  Despite the fact that his shoes were dropping from his feet, the leatherbeing burned through, Wilbur sped after the escaping fire. He reachedit. But as he reached, he heard the needles rustle overhead and saw thebranches sway. As yet the breeze had not touched the ground, but beforetwo strokes with the wet coat had been made, the last of the gusts ofthe evening wind struck him. It caught the little tongue of flame Wilburhad so manfully striven to overtake, swept it out upon the clearing,and almost before the boy could realize that his chance was gone, thegrass was a sheet of flame and the fire had entered the forest beyond ina dozen places.

  Wilbur was but a boy after all, and sick and heart-broken, he had toswallow several times very hard to keep from breaking down. And thereaction and fatigue together stunned him into inertness. For a momentonly, then his persistent stubbornness came to the front.

  "That fire's got to be put out," he said aloud, "as the Chief Forestersaid, back in Washington, if it takes the whole State to do it."

  He walked back to his horse and started for his little cabin home. Howhe reached there, Wilbur never rightly knew. He felt like a traitor,leaving the fire still burning which he had tried so hard to conquer,but he knew he had done all he could. As he rode home, however, he sawthrough the trees another gleam, and taking out his glasses, saw in thedistance a second fire, in no way connected with that which he hadfought. This cheered him up greatly, for he felt that he could rightlycall for help for two fires without any reflection on his courage or hisgrit, where he hated to tell that he had tried and failed to put out ablaze which perhaps an older or a stronger man might have succeeded inquelling. He called up the Ranger.

  "Rifle-Eye," he said over the 'phone as soon as he got a response,"there's a fire here that looks big. In fact, there's two. I've beenafter one all afternoon, and I nearly got it under, but when the windrose it got away from me. And there seems to be a bigger one prettyclose to it."

  "Well, son, I s'pose you're needin' help," came the reply.

  "All hands, I think," said the boy. "By the time I can get back therethe two fires probably will have joined, and the blaze will be severalmiles long."

  "Surest thing you know," said the Ranger. "Where do you locate thesefires?"

  Wilbur described with some detail the precise point where the fires wereraging.

  "You'd better get back on the job," said Rifle-Eye promptly, "and tryan' hold it down the best you can. I'll have some one there on the jump.We want to get it under to-night, as it's a lot easier 'n in thedaytime."

  Never did the little tent look so inviting or so cozy to Wilbur asthat moment. But he had his orders. "Get back on the job," the Rangerhad said. He took the time to change his shoes and to snatch up somecold grub which was easy to get. But he ate it standing, not daring tosit down lest he should go to sleep--and go to sleep when he had beenordered out! He ate standing. Then, going down to the corral, he saddledKit.

  He rode quietly up past the tent.

  "I guess," he said, "I really never did want to go to bed so muchbefore, but--" he turned Kit's head to the trail.

  It was well for Wilbur that he had ridden the other horse that day, forKit was fresh and ready. The moon had risen and was nearly full, butWilbur shivered as much from nervousness and responsibility as fromfatigue. It was useless for him to try riding at any high rate of speedin the uncertain light, and in any case, the boy felt that his laborsfor a half an hour more or less would not mean as much as when it hadbeen a question of absolutely extinguishing a small blaze. Kit danced alittle in the fresh night air, but Wilbur sat so heavily and listlesslyupon her back that the mare sensed something wrong and constantly turnedher wise face round to see.

  "I'm just tired, Kit," said the boy to her, "that's all. Don't get gayto-night; I'm not up to it."

  And the little mare, as though she had understood every word, settleddown to a quiet lope down the trail. How far he had ridden or in whatdirection he was traveling Wilbur at last became entirely unconscious,for, utterly worn out, he had fallen asleep in the saddle, keeping hisseat merely by instinct and owing to the gentle, easy pace of his mare.

  He was wakened by a heavy hand being put upon his shoulder, and rousinghimself with a start, he found the grave, kindly eyes of the old Rangergleaming on him in the moonlight.

  "Sleeping, son?" queried the old mountaineer.

  "Yes, Rifle-Eye, I guess I must have been," said the lad, "just dozedoff. I'm dog-tired. I've been on that fire all afternoon."

  The Ranger looked at him keenly.

  "Best thing you could have done," he said. "You'll fe
el worse for a fewminutes, an' then you'll find that cat-nap is just as good as a wholenight's sleep. That is," he added, "it is for a while. What's the firelike? I tried to get somethin' out of Ben, but he was actin' queerly,an' I left him alone. But he seemed to know pretty well where it was."

  Wilbur tried to explain the story of the fire, but his tale soon becameincoherent, and before they had ridden another half a mile, his storyhad died down to a few mutterings and he was asleep again. The oldhunter rode beside him, his hand ready to catch him should he waver inthe saddle, but Kit loped along at her easiest gait and the boy scarcelymoved. Rifle-Eye woke him again when they left the trail and broke intothe forest.

  "I reckon you better wake up, son," he said, "landin' suddenly on yourhead on a rock is some abrupt as an alarm clock."

  Wilbur dropped the reins to stretch himself.

  "I feel a lot better now," he announced, "just as good as ever. Exceptfor my hands," he added ruefully, as returning wakefulness brought backwith it the consciousness of smart and hurt, "and my feet are mightysore, too. We're right near the fire, too, aren't we," he continued."Gee, that was nifty sleeping nearly all the way. I guess I must havefelt you were around, Rifle-Eye, and so I slept easily, knowing it wouldcome out all right with you here."

  "I ain't never been famous for hypnotizin' any forest fire that I'veheard of," said the old hunter, smiling, "but I've got a lurkin' ideasomewhere that we'll get this headed off all right. An' in any case,there ain't much folks livin' in the path of the fire, if the wind keepsthe way she is now."

  Wilbur thought for a moment over the lay of the land and the directionin which the flames were moving.

  "There's the mill," he said suddenly and excitedly.

  "Yes, son," said the old hunter. "I'd been thinkin' of that. There's themill."

  "THAT'S ONE PAINTER LESS, ANYHOW!"

  Shooting the mountain lion; a frequent incident in the daily life of aRanger.

  _Photograph by U. S. Forest Service._]

  "SMOKE! AND HOW AM I GOING TO GET THERE?"

  Ranger forced to make a breakneck dash through wild and unknown countryto fight forest fire.

  _Photograph by U. S. Forest Service._]