Blue and white puffs4 of smoke swept by me. The trail was a dim, twisting line. The slopes and pines, merged5 in a mass, flew backward in brown sheets. Above the roar of the pursuing fire I heard the thunder of Target's hoofs6. I scarcely felt him or the saddle, only a motion and the splitting of the wind.
The fear of death by fire, which had almost robbed me of strength, passed from me. My brain cleared. Still I had no kind of hope, only a desperate resolve not to give up.
The great bay horse was running to save his life and to save mine. It was a race with fire. When I thought of the horse, and saw how fast he was going, and realized that I must do my part, I was myself again.
The trail was a winding7, hard-packed thread of white ground. It had been made for leisurely8 travel. Many turns were sudden and sharp. I loosened the reins9, and cried out to Target. Evidently I had unknowingly held him in, for he lengthened10 out, and went on in quicker, longer leaps. In that moment riding seemed easy. I listened to the roar behind me, now a little less deafening11, and began to thrill. We were running away from the fire.
Hope made the race seem different. Something stirred and beat warm within me, driving out the chill in my marrow12. I leaned over the neck of the great bay horse, and called to him and cheered him on. Then I saw he was deaf and blind to me, for he was wild. He had the bit between his teeth, and was running away.
The roar behind us relentlessly13 pursuing, only a little less appalling14, was now not my only source of peril16. Target could no more be guided nor stopped than could the forest fire. The trail grew more winding and overhung more thickly by pine branches. The horse did not swerve17 an inch for tree or thicket18, but ran as if free, and the saving of my life began to be a matter of dodging19. Once a crashing blow from a branch almost knocked me from the saddle. The wind in my ears half drowned the roar behind me. With hands twisted in Target's mane I bent20 low, watching with keen eyes for the trees and branches ahead. I drew up my knees and bent my body, and dodged21 and went down flat over the pommel like a wild-riding Indian. Target kept that straining run for a longer distance than I could judge. With the same breakneck speed he thundered on over logs and little washes, through the thick, bordering bushes, and around the sudden turns. His foam22 moistened my face and flecked my sleeves. The wind came stinging into my face, the heavy roar followed at my back with its menace.
Swift and terrible as the forest fire was, Target was winning the race. I knew it. Steadily23 the roar softened24, but it did not die away. Pound! pound! pound! The big bay charged up the trail. How long could he stand that killing25 pace? I began to talk soothingly26 to him, to pull on the bridle27; but he might have been an avalanche28 for all he heeded29. Still I kept at him, fighting him every moment that I was free from low branches. Gradually the strain began to tell.
The sight of a cabin brought back to my mind the meaning of the wild race with fire. I had forgotten the prisoners. I had reached the forest glade30 and the cabin, but Target was still going hard. What if I could not stop him! Summoning all my strength, I quickly threw weight and muscle back on the reins and snapped the bit out of his teeth. Then coaxing31, commanding, I pulled him back. In the glade were four horses, standing32 bunched with heads and ears up, uneasy, and beginning to be frightened. Perhaps the sight of them helped me to stop Target; at any rate, he slackened his pace and halted. He was spotted33 with foam, dripping wet, and his broad sides heaved.
I jumped off, stiff and cramped34. I could scarcely walk. The air was clear, though the fog of smoke overspread the sun. The wind blew strong with a scent35 of pitch. Now that I was not riding, the roar of the fire sounded close. I caught the same strange growl36, the note of on-sweeping fury. Again the creepy cold went over me. I felt my face blanch37, and the skin tighten38 over my cheeks. I dashed into the cabin, crying: “Fire! Fire! Fire!”
“Whoop! It's the kid!” yelled Herky-Jerky.
He was lying near the door, red as a brick in the face, and panting hard. In one cut I severed39 the rope on his feet; in another, that round his raw and bloody40 wrists. Herky had torn his flesh trying to release his hands.
“Kid, how'd you git back hyar?” he questioned, with his sharp little eyes glinting on me. “Did the fire chase you? Whar's Leslie?”
“Buell fired the slash41. Penetier is burning. Dick and Hiram sent me back to the pool below, and then didn't come. They got caught—oh!... I'm afraid—lost!... Then I remembered you fellows. The fire's coming—it's awful—we must fly!”
“You thought of us?” Herky's voice sounded queer and strangled. “Bud! Bill! Did you hear thet? Wal, wal!”
While he muttered on I cut Bill's bonds. He rose without a word. Bud was almost unconscious. He had struggled terribly. His heels had dug a hole in the hard clay floor; his wrists were skinned; his mouth and chin covered with earth, probably from his having bitten the ground in his agony. Herky helped him up and gave him a drink from a little pocket-flask.
“Herky, if you think you've rid some in your day, look at thet hoss,” said Bill, coolly, from the door. He eyed me coolly; in fact, he was as cool as if there were no fire on Penetier. But Bud was white and sick, and Herky flaming with excitement.
“We hain't got a chance. Listen! Thet roar! She's hummin'.”
“It's runnin' up the draw. We don't stand no showdown in hyar. Grab a hoss now, an' we'll try to head acrost the ridge42.”
I remounted Target, and the three men caught horses and climbed up bareback. Bill led the way across the glade, up the slope, into the level forest. There we broke into a gallop43. The air upon this higher ground was dark and thick, but not so hard to breathe as that lower down. We pressed on. For a while the roar receded44, and almost deadened. Then it grew clearer again' filled out, and swelled45. Bud wanted to sheer off to the left. Herky swore we were being surrounded. Bill turned a deaf ear to them. From my own sense of direction I fancied we were going wrong, but Bill was so cool he gave me courage. Soon a blue, windy haze46, shrouding47 the giant pines ahead, caused Bill to change his course.
“Do you know whar you're headin'?” yelled Herky, high above the roar.
“I hain't got the least idee, Herky,” shouted Bill, as cool as could be, “but I guess somewhar whar it'll be hot!”
We were lost in the forest and almost surrounded by fire, if the roar was anything to tell by. We galloped48 on, always governed by the roar, always avoiding the slope up the mountain. If we once started up that with the fire in our rear we were doomed49. Perhaps there were times when the wind deceived us. It was hard to tell. Anyway, we kept on, growing more bewildered. Bud looked like a dead man already and reeled in his saddle. The horses were getting hard to manage, and the wind was strengthening and puffed50 at us from all quarters. Bill still looked cool, but the last vestige51 of color had faded from his face. These things boded52 ill. Herky had grown strangely silent, which fact was the worst of all for me. For that tough, scarred, reckless little wretch53 to hold his tongue was the last straw.
The air freshened somewhat, and the forest lightened. Almost abruptly54 we rode out to the edge of a great, wide canyon. It must have crossed the forest at right angles to the canyon we had left. It was twice as wide and deep as any I had yet seen. In the bottom wound a broad brook55.
“Which way now?” asked Herky.
Bill shook his head. Far to our right a pall15 of smoke moved over the tree-tops, to our left was foggy gloom, behind rolled the unceasing roar. We all looked straight across. Probably each of us harbored the same thought. Before that wind the fire would leap the canyon in flaming bounds, and on the opposite level was the thick pitch-pine forest of Penetier proper. So far we had been among the foot-hills. We dared not enter the real forest with that wild-fire back of us. Momentarily we stood irresolute56. It was a pause full of hopelessness, such as might have come to tired deer, close harried57 by hounds.
The winding brook and the brown slope, comparatively bare of trees, brought me a sudden inspiration.
“Back-fire! Back-fire!” I cried to my companions, in wild appeal. “We must back-fire. It's our chance! Here's the place!”
Bud scowled58 and Herky grumbled59, but Bill grasped at the idea.
“I've heerd of back-firin'. The rangers60 do it. But how? How?”
They caught his hope, and their haggard faces lightened.
“Kid, we ain't forest rangers,” said Herky. “Do you know what you're talkin' about?”
“Yes, yes! Come on! We'll back-fire!”
I led the way down the slope, and they came close at my heels. I rode into the shallow brook, and dismounted about the middle between the banks. I hung my coat on the pommel of my saddle.
“Bud, you and Bill hold the horses here!” I shouted, intensely excited. “Herky, have you matches?”
“Nary a match.”
“Hyar's a box,” said Bill, tossing it.
“Come on, Herky! You run up the brook. Light a match, and drop it every hundred feet. Be sure it catches. Lucky there's little wind down here. Go as far as you can. I'll run down!”
We splashed out of the brook and leaped up the bank. The grass was long and dry. There was brush near by, and the pine-needle mats almost bordered the bank. I struck a match and dropped it.
Sis-s-s! Flare61! It was almost like dropping a spark into gunpowder62. The flame ran quickly, reached the pine-needles, then sputtered63 and fizzed into a big blaze. The first pine-tree exploded and went off like a rocket. We were startled by the sound and the red, up-leaping pillar of fire. Sudden heat shot back at us as if from a furnace. Great sparks began to fall.
“It's goin'!” yelled Herky-Jerky, his voice ringing strong. He clapped his hat down on my bare head. Then he started running up-stream.
I darted65 in the opposite direction. I heard Bud and Bill yelling, and the angry crack and hiss66 of the fire. A few rods down I stopped, struck another match, and lit the grass. There was a sputter64 and flash. Then the flame flared67 up, spread like running quicksilver, and, meeting the pine-needles, changed to red. I ran on. There was a loud flutter behind me, then a crack almost like a shot, then a seething68 roar. Another pine had gone off. As I stopped to strike the third match there came three distinct reports, and then others that seemed dulled in a windy roar. I raced onward69, daring only once to look back. A fearful sight met my gaze. The slope was a red wave. The pines were tufts of flame. The air was filled with steaming clouds of whirling smoke. Then I fled onward again.
Match after match I struck, and when the box was empty I must have been a mile, two miles, maybe more, from the starting-point. I was wringing-wet, and there was a piercing pain in my side. I plunged70 across the brook, and in as deep water as I could find knelt down to cover all but my face. Then, with laboring71 breaths that bubbled the water near my mouth, I kept still and watched.
The back-fire which I had started swept up over the slope and down the brook like a charge of red lancers. Spears of flame led the advance. The flame licked up the dry surface-grass and brush, and, meeting the pines, circled them in a whirlwind of fire, like lightning flashing upward. Then came prolonged reports, and after that a long, blistering72 roar in the tree-tops. Even as I gazed, appalled73 in the certainty of a horrible fate, I thrilled at the grand spectacle. Fire had always fascinated me. The clang of the engines and the call of “Fire!” would tear me from any task or play. But I had never known what fire was. I knew now. Storms of air and sea were nothing compared to this. It was the greatest force in nature. It was fire. On one hand, I seemed cool and calculated the chances; on the other, I had flashes in my brain, and kept crying out crazily, in a voice like a whisper: “Fire! Fire! Fire!”
But presently the wall of fire rolled by and took the roar with it. Dense74 billows of smoke followed, and hid everything in opaque75 darkness. I heard the hiss of failing sparks and the crackle of burning wood, and occasionally the crash of a failing branch. It was intolerably hot, but I could stand the heat better than the air. I coughed and strangled. I could not get my breath. My eyes smarted and burned. Crawling close under the bank, I leaned against it and waited.
Some hours must have passed. I suffered, not exactly pain, but a discomfort76 that was almost worse. By-and-by the air cleared a little. Rifts77 in the smoke drifted over me, always toward the far side of the canyon. Twice I crawled out upon the bank, but the heat drove me back into the water. The snow-water from the mountain-peaks had changed from cold to warm; still, it gave a relief from the hot blast of air. More time dragged by. Weary to the point of collapse78, I grew not to care about anything.
Then the yellow fog lightened, and blew across the brook and lifted and split. The parts of the canyon-slope that I could see were seared and blackened. The pines were columns of living coals. The fire was eating into their hearts. Presently they would snap at the trunk, crash down, and burn to ashes. Wreathes of murky79 smoke circled them, and drifted aloft to join the overhanging clouds.
I floundered out on the bank, and began to walk up-stream. After all, it was not so very hot, but I felt queer. I did not seem to be able to step where I looked or see where I stepped. Still, that caused me no worry. The main thing was that the fire had not yet crossed the brook. I wanted to feel overjoyed at that, but I was too tired. Anyway I was sure the fire had crossed below or above. It would be tearing down on this side presently, and then I would have to crawl into the brook or burn up. It did not matter much which I had to do. Then I grew dizzy, my legs trembled, my feet lost all sense of touching80 the ground. I could not go much farther. Just then I heard a shout. It was close by. I answered, and heard heavy steps. I peered through the smoky haze. Something dark moved up in the gloom.
“Ho, kid! Thar you are!” I felt a strong arm go round my waist. “Wal, wal!” That was Herky. His voice sounded glad. It roused a strange eagerness in me; his rough greeting seemed to bring me back from a distance.
“All wet, but not burned none, I see. We kinder was afeared.... Say, kid, thet back-fire, now. It was a dandy. It did the biz. Our whiskers was singed81, but we're safe. An' kid, it was your game, played like a man.”
After that his voice grew faint, and I felt as if I were walking in a dream.
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1
scaly
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| adj.鱼鳞状的；干燥粗糙的 | |
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2
obstructing
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| 阻塞( obstruct的现在分词 )； 堵塞； 阻碍； 阻止 | |
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canyon
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| n.峡谷，溪谷 | |
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4
puffs
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| n.吸( puff的名词复数 )；（烟斗或香烟的）一吸；一缕（烟、蒸汽等）；（呼吸或风的）呼v.使喷出( puff的第三人称单数 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
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5
merged
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| （使）混合( merge的过去式和过去分词 )； 相融； 融入； 渐渐消失在某物中 | |
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6
hoofs
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| n.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的名词复数 )v.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的第三人称单数 ) | |
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7
winding
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| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
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8
leisurely
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| adj.悠闲的；从容的，慢慢的 | |
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9
reins
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| 感情，激情； 缰( rein的名词复数 )； 控制手段； 掌管； （成人带着幼儿走路以防其走失时用的）保护带 | |
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10
lengthened
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| （时间或空间）延长，伸长( lengthen的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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11
deafening
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| adj. 振耳欲聋的, 极喧闹的 动词deafen的现在分词形式 | |
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12
marrow
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| n.骨髓；精华；活力 | |
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13
relentlessly
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| adv.不屈不挠地；残酷地；不间断 | |
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appalling
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| adj.骇人听闻的，令人震惊的，可怕的 | |
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pall
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| v.覆盖，使平淡无味；n.柩衣，棺罩；棺材；帷幕 | |
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16
peril
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| n.(严重的)危险；危险的事物 | |
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swerve
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| v.突然转向，背离；n．转向，弯曲，背离 | |
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thicket
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| n.灌木丛，树林 | |
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19
dodging
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| n.避开，闪过，音调改变v.闪躲( dodge的现在分词 )；回避 | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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dodged
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| v.闪躲( dodge的过去式和过去分词 )；回避 | |
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22
foam
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| v./n.泡沫，起泡沫 | |
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23
steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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24
softened
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| （使）变软( soften的过去式和过去分词 )； 缓解打击； 缓和； 安慰 | |
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25
killing
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| n.巨额利润；突然赚大钱，发大财 | |
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soothingly
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| adv.抚慰地，安慰地；镇痛地 | |
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27
bridle
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| n.笼头，束缚；vt.抑制，约束；动怒 | |
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avalanche
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| n.雪崩，大量涌来 | |
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heeded
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| v.听某人的劝告，听从( heed的过去式和过去分词 )；变平，使（某物）变平( flatten的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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30
glade
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| n.林间空地，一片表面有草的沼泽低地 | |
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coaxing
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| v.哄，用好话劝说( coax的现在分词 )；巧言骗取；哄劝，劝诱；“锻炼”效应 | |
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32
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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spotted
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| adj.有斑点的，斑纹的，弄污了的 | |
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cramped
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| a.狭窄的 | |
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scent
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| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
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36
growl
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| v.（狗等）嗥叫，（炮等）轰鸣；n.嗥叫，轰鸣 | |
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37
blanch
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| v.漂白；使变白；使(植物)不见日光而变白 | |
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38
tighten
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| v.(使)变紧；(使)绷紧 | |
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39
severed
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| v.切断，断绝( sever的过去式和过去分词 )；断，裂 | |
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bloody
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| adj.非常的的；流血的；残忍的；adv.很；vt.血染 | |
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41
slash
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| vi.大幅度削减；vt.猛砍，尖锐抨击，大幅减少；n.猛砍，斜线，长切口，衣衩 | |
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42
ridge
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| n.山脊；鼻梁；分水岭 | |
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43
gallop
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| v./n.(马或骑马等)飞奔；飞速发展 | |
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44
receded
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| v.逐渐远离( recede的过去式和过去分词 )；向后倾斜；自原处后退或避开别人的注视；尤指问题 | |
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45
swelled
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| 增强( swell的过去式和过去分词 )； 肿胀； （使）凸出； 充满（激情） | |
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46
haze
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| n.霾，烟雾；懵懂，迷糊；vi.(over)变模糊 | |
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47
shrouding
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| n.覆盖v.隐瞒( shroud的现在分词 )；保密 | |
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48
galloped
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| （使马）飞奔，奔驰( gallop的过去式和过去分词 )； 快速做[说]某事 | |
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49
doomed
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| 命定的 | |
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50
puffed
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| adj.疏松的v.使喷出( puff的过去式和过去分词 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
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51
vestige
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| n.痕迹，遗迹，残余 | |
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52
boded
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| v.预示，预告，预言( bode的过去式和过去分词 )；等待，停留( bide的过去分词 )；居住；（过去式用bided）等待 | |
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53
wretch
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| n.可怜的人，不幸的人；卑鄙的人 | |
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54
abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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55
brook
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| n.小河，溪；v.忍受，容让 | |
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56
irresolute
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| adj.无决断的，优柔寡断的，踌躇不定的 | |
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57
harried
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| v.使苦恼( harry的过去式和过去分词 )；不断烦扰；一再袭击；侵扰 | |
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58
scowled
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| 怒视，生气地皱眉( scowl的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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59
grumbled
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| 抱怨( grumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 发牢骚； 咕哝； 发哼声 | |
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60
rangers
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| 护林者( ranger的名词复数 )； 突击队员 | |
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61
flare
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| v.闪耀，闪烁；n.潮红；突发 | |
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gunpowder
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| n.火药 | |
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sputtered
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| v.唾沫飞溅( sputter的过去式和过去分词 )；发劈啪声；喷出；飞溅出 | |
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sputter
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| n.喷溅声；v.喷溅 | |
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darted
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的过去式和过去分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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hiss
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| v.发出嘶嘶声；发嘘声表示不满 | |
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Flared
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| adj. 端部张开的, 爆发的, 加宽的, 漏斗式的 动词flare的过去式和过去分词 | |
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seething
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| 沸腾的，火热的 | |
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onward
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| adj.向前的，前进的；adv.向前，前进，在先 | |
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plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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laboring
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| n.劳动，操劳v.努力争取(for)( labor的现在分词 )；苦干；详细分析；（指引擎）缓慢而困难地运转 | |
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blistering
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| adj.酷热的；猛烈的；使起疱的；可恶的v.起水疱；起气泡；使受暴晒n.[涂料] 起泡 | |
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appalled
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| v.使惊骇，使充满恐惧( appall的过去式和过去分词)adj.惊骇的；丧胆的 | |
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dense
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| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
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opaque
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| adj.不透光的；不反光的，不传导的；晦涩的 | |
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discomfort
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| n.不舒服，不安，难过，困难，不方便 | |
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rifts
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| n.裂缝( rift的名词复数 )；裂隙；分裂；不和 | |
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collapse
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| vi.累倒；昏倒；倒塌；塌陷 | |
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murky
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| adj.黑暗的，朦胧的；adv.阴暗地，混浊地；n.阴暗；昏暗 | |
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touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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singed
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| v.浅表烧焦( singe的过去式和过去分词 )；（毛发）燎，烧焦尖端[边儿] | |
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