"Who's there?" she gasped8.
"Keep your mouth shut!" commanded a voice close to her ear; then the arms lifted her bodily out of bed and swung her clear of the floor; a glimmering9 tongue of flame licking up the stairway revealed the features of the man in whose arms she struggled.
"Holcomb!" she started to cry out, but the acrid fog closed her throat.
"Keep your mouth shut—do you hear!" he muttered in her ear; "we'll be out of this in a minute." He lunged with her headlong over the smashed door and reached the top of the flight, feeling for the first step cautiously with his foot. She screamed this time, beating his face with her clenched10 hands.
"Keep your mouth shut," he mumbled11; "you'll strangle."
Her arm became limp. "Where's Sam?—where's—" she pleaded feebly. Then a dull roar rang in her ears; she lay unconscious, a dead weight in his arms.
Holcomb began to stagger on the bottom step, reeling like a drunkard; again he proceeded, stumbling on through the passageway leading to Blakeman's pantry. The ceiling of varnished12 yellow pine above him rained down sputtering14 drippings of flame; they burned his neck, his hands, his hair. He dashed on through a pantry of sizzling blisters15, past a glowing wall in a hot fog of yellow smoke, one burned hand covering her mouth. Then he turned sharply to the left, striking his shoulder heavily against a corner beam!
The blow made him conscious of a man crawling on his hands and knees toward them. The man rose—groped blindly like an animal driven to bay and rushed straight at him.
"Give her to me, Billy," he hissed16 in his ear, "Quick—save yourself!"
Then a burned fist struck straight out and missed—struck again and
Holcomb fell senseless.
With the quickness of a cat the man caught the woman in his arms, groped his way to the open, laid her prostrate17 body on the charred18 grass—sprang back into the swirl19 and choke of the deadly gas and smoke, and the next instant reappeared with the stunned20 and half-conscious Holcomb on his back, his hair singed21, his clothes on fire; then he tripped and fell headlong.
The shock brought Holcomb to his senses. The man was stooping over him, his ear close to his cheek.
"It's me, Billy—Bob Dinsmore. I didn't want to hurt ye, but I see ye couldn't manage her and yerself and thar warn't no other way; ye'd both been smothered22. She's all right—they're tendin' to her."
Holcomb clutched at the hide-out's sleeve.
"No—I dassent stay—nobody seen me but you"—and he was swallowed up in the shadows.
Two men and a girl now swept past the half-dazed man, halted for a moment, and with a cry of joy from the girl, aided by the trapper and the Clown, dragged him clear of the rain of burning embers.
When Holcomb regained24 consciousness Margaret was bending over him.
"No, Billy—don't move, dear. Please, oh, please—" and she kissed his cheek—two soft little kisses—the kisses he had remembered in his dream. Then she left him.
He forgot the pain racking his arm; his brain grew clearer. He reached his feet, lurching unsteadily toward Thayor, who sat by Alice who was sobbing25 hysterically26. The banker put out his left hand and covered Holcomb's burned fist tenderly, his gaze still fixed27 on the leaping flames, but neither spoke28. The situation was too intense for words.
* * * * *
During this utter destruction not a man among the gang employed had put in an appearance. This fact, in itself, was alarming; nor had one outside of these come to the rescue. There was no doubt now that the general desertion had been as premeditated as the fire. Who were the prime movers of this dastardly revenge remained still a mystery.
The housekeeper29, the cook, the two maids and the valet—all but Blakeman and Annette, who had awakened30 at the first alarm—had made their escape in terror down the macadam road; they were just in time; this road—the only open exit leading out from Big Shanty31 being now barred by flame. Worse than all, this barrier of fire had widened so that now two roaring wings of burning timber extended from the very edge of the torrent in a vast semi-circle of flame—sinister32 and impenetrable—across the compound and far into the woods on the other side. It was as if the last life boat had been launched from a sinking ship, leaving those who were too late to die!
Their only way out now lay through that trackless wilderness33 behind them.
Here was a situation far graver than the burning of Big Shanty. The gray-haired man with his back against the hemlock34 realized this. He still stood grimly watching the fire—his ashen35 lips shut tight.
Big Shanty burned briskly; it crackled, blazed, puffed36 and roared, driven by a northeast wind. The northeast wind was in league with the flames. It was on hand; it had begun with the stables—it had now nearly finished with the main camp. The surrounding buildings—the innumerable shelters for innumerable things—made a poor display; they went too quickly. It was the varnish13 in the main camp that went mad in flame—rioting flames that swept joyously37 now in oily waves. The northeast wind spared nothing. It seemed to howl to the flames: "Keep on—I'll back you—I'm game until daylight."
Walls, partitions, gables, roofs, ridge-poles, stuff in closets, furniture, luxuries, rugs, pictures, floors, clapboards, jewels, shingles38, a grand piano, guns, gowns, books, money—in twenty minutes became a glowing hole in the ground. The destruction was complete; the heel of the northeast wind had stamped it flat. Big Shanty camp had vanished.
The man braced39 against the trunk of the hemlock saw all this with the old, weary, haggard look in his eyes, yet not a syllable40 escaped his lips. He saw the northeast wind drive its friend the fire straight into the thick timber of the wilderness; trees crackled, flared41 and gave up; others ahead of them bent42, burst and went under—the northeast wind had doomed43 them rods ahead; it swept—it annihilated—without quarter. It scattered44 the half-clad group of refugees to shelter across Big Shanty Brook45 upon whose opposite shore, as yet untouched, they re-gathered to watch—out of the way.
It began to drizzle46—a drizzle of no importance, but it cooled the faces of those who were ill.
In an hour Big Shanty Brook had sacrificed three miles of its shore in self-defence. Its bend above the nodding cedars—where Thayor had killed his deer—had succeeded in turning the course of the fire. The shore upon which the refugees stood was untouched. The brook in the chaos47 of running fire had saved their lives.
Still the fire roared on and although the torrent kept it at bay it went wild in the bordering wilderness. The burned camp was now a forgotten incident in this devilish course of flame. The northeast wind had not failed. The woods became a fire opal—opaque in smoke, with the red glint of innumerable trees glowing in gleaming strata48, marking the course of the wind. Many a bird fluttered and dropped in a vain effort to escape from the heat—the heat of a blast furnace. The hedgehog being lazy and loath49 to move—lay dead—simmering in his fat. The kingfisher jeered50 in safety—never before had he seen so many little dead fish. It was a gala day for him. They stuck against charred branches conveniently in shallow, out-of-the-way pools. He sat perched on the top of a giant hemlock chattering51 over his good luck. The chipmunk52, at the first sinister glare, had skittered away to safety. He had not had a wink53 of sleep and his little nose was as black as his hide from running over charred timber. Often it was a close squeak54 with him to keep from burning his feet.
Nothing can tear through a forest like a fire. Its speed is unbelievable; it strikes with the quickness of a cat—slipping out myriads55 of snake-like tongues right and left into the dryest places. It reasons—it decides—rarely it pardons. It is more dangerous than an incoming sea; the sea gives warning—the fire gives none. Your death is only one of many—a burned detail. The forest fire has a leap which is subtle—ferocious. Things it misses it goes back for until they crumble56 and are devoured57 at its edge. It cuts with the sweep of a red-hot scythe58. All this occurs above the surface. What happens beneath is worse. It gnaws59 with the tenacity60 of a cancer deep into the ground, lingering hidden until suspicion has passed; then it asserts itself in a new outbreak in places least suspected. When it is all over the region lies desolate61 for years. It becomes a waste, a tangle62 of briers—pitiful upstarts of trees and burned stumps63.
Had it not been for the trapper's and the Clown's forethought the fugitives65 would have fared worse. They had managed to rescue a nondescript collection of clothing, blankets, mackintoshes, socks, brogans and two teamsters' overcoats from the partly destroyed lower shanty. In the storehouse adjoining they, with Blakeman's assistance, found three hams, matches, a sack of flour, some tea, half a sack of beans and a few cooking utensils66. Everything else had been stolen, including possibly the new stock of provisions Thayor had telegraphed for, the debris67 of two new boxes and the gray ashes of excelsior giving little doubt that the new provisions had arrived. Holt and Skinner had only time to bundle these valuables together when the fire reached them. Heavily loaded they managed to regain23 the others keeping along the edge of the torrent.
Alice Thayor presented a strange appearance; a pair of lumberjack's trousers, a mackinaw shirt, rough woollen socks, a pair of brogans and one of the teamster's overcoats, its collar turned up against her dishevelled hair, had transformed her into a vagabond. She was still weak from shock, but she went to work with Margaret and Annette, brewing68 a pail of tea, while Thayor, Holcomb and the rest straightened out their weird69 bivouac in the acrid opal haze. The Clown was again busy with his fry-pan, the old dog watching him with bloodshot eyes.
There was little or no conversation during the preparation of that hurried meal. When at last it was ready Blakeman started to serve it. Thayor caught his butler's eye and motioned him to a seat beside him.
"You are as hungry as the rest of us," he said with an effort; "there's no need of formality here, Blakeman." He glanced with a peculiar70, weary smile from one to another of the little group squatting71 around the improvised72 meal, and his voice faltered73.
"Big Shanty is gone," he resumed; "but I thank God it was no worse. Whatever is in store for us we must share. What that will be nobody can tell, but it's going to be a hard experience and we must meet it. It would be sheer folly74 to attempt to get clear of all this by way of Morrison's; that road is completely cut off—am I right, Holt?"—and he turned to the trapper.
The old man, who had eaten sparingly and in silence, raised his head.
"Yes, ye'r right, Mr. Thayor, but it won't do for us to stay whar we be no longer 'n we're obleeged to, that's sartain. Them hell-hounds ain't done yit. Yer life ain't safe," he added slowly.
Alice Thayor gave a little gasp7, riveting75 her frightened gaze on the speaker. Margaret turned and looked at her mother with trembling lips; then she patted Alice's hand affectionately. Annette began to cry.
"It's hard to tell ye the truth, friend," continued the old man, "but I might as well tell ye now. There ain't nothin' left for us to do but to git out o' this hell-hole as quick as God'll let us. We got plenty of things in our favour——No, sir, it ain't as bad as it might be with them woods full of smoke. Thar's a railroad over thar"—he continued, nodding to the wilderness beyond them. "I cal'late we could make the railroad in, say, four days. Let's see—Bear Pond—as fur as the leetle Still water; then over them Green Mount'ins and through Alder76 Swamp."
"And it's clear goin', Hite," interposed the Clown, "as fur as Buck77 Pond. I was in thar once with the survey." Holcomb did not speak; it was a country which he had never entered.
"I had a trappin' shanty at Buck Pond once," continued Holt, "most thirty years ago. I knowed that country in them days as well as I know my hat and I presume likely it ain't changed. A day from Buck Pond, steady travellin', ought, in my idee, to git us out to the cars. I'll do my best to git ye thar."
Thus it was hurriedly decided78 that the trapper should lead the way. Holcomb suggested that he and the trapper should return to the burned camp in the hope, if possible, of finding something left which might be of use on the journey. They were sadly in need of an axe79; the dull hatchet80 they had found in the cook's shanty they knew would prove next to useless. So Holcomb and Holt set off at once for the scene of the disaster while the rest got together into more practical carrying shape all that they possessed81, ready for a start immediately on their return.
Soon Holcomb and the trapper were trudging82 about in the stifling83 heat of the ruins; they had drenched84 themselves to the waist in the brook and were thus enabled to make a hurried search within the fire zone. The first ruins they came upon were the stables—not a horse had escaped.
Although they found it impossible to approach the still blazing ruins of the main camp, they discovered among the smouldering, charred timbers of Holcomb's cabin the blade of a double-bitted axe, its helve burned off. A few rods further on, in the blinding smoke, they found a keg of nails. The only things the flames had left around them were of iron. An iron reservoir lay on its side where it had fallen; twisted girders loomed85 above the cauldron of desultory86 flame, marking the rectangle of the main camp. They shovelled87 the hot nails and the blades of the two axes into a blackened tin bucket and started back to the brook.
The trapper led. He had gone about a dozen rods farther on when he halted abruptly88, peering under the palm of his hand at a smouldering log ahead of him.
"God Almighty89!" he cried, staring back at Holcomb, as he pointed90 to the smoking log.
Holcomb, with stinging eyes, saw a claw of a hand thrust above the log. The bones of the wrist were visible; the rest resembled a misfit glove, the fingers hanging in shreds91. The hand connected with the body of a man lying close against the opposite side of the log. The legs from the knees down were gone; the remainder of the man was a mass of burned flesh and rags. Near the stump64 of the right arm lay a charred kerosene92 can.
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1
torrent
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| n.激流，洪流；爆发，(话语等的)连发 | |
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acrid
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| adj.辛辣的，尖刻的，刻薄的 | |
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3
haze
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| n.霾，烟雾；懵懂，迷糊；vi.(over)变模糊 | |
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4
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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5
shrieked
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| v.尖叫( shriek的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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sinewy
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| adj.多腱的，强壮有力的 | |
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7
gasp
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| n.喘息，气喘；v.喘息；气吁吁他说 | |
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8
gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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9
glimmering
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| n.微光，隐约的一瞥adj.薄弱地发光的v.发闪光，发微光( glimmer的现在分词 ) | |
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10
clenched
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| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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11
mumbled
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| 含糊地说某事，叽咕，咕哝( mumble的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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12
varnished
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| 浸渍过的，涂漆的 | |
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varnish
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| n.清漆；v.上清漆；粉饰 | |
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14
sputtering
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| n.反应溅射法；飞溅；阴极真空喷镀；喷射v.唾沫飞溅( sputter的现在分词 )；发劈啪声；喷出；飞溅出 | |
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15
blisters
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| n.水疱( blister的名词复数 )；水肿；气泡 | |
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16
hissed
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| 发嘶嘶声( hiss的过去式和过去分词 )； 发嘘声表示反对 | |
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17
prostrate
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| v.拜倒，平卧，衰竭；adj.拜倒的，平卧的，衰竭的 | |
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18
charred
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| v.把…烧成炭( char的过去式)；烧焦 | |
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swirl
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| v.(使)打漩，(使)涡卷；n.漩涡，螺旋形 | |
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20
stunned
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| adj. 震惊的，惊讶的 动词stun的过去式和过去分词 | |
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21
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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22
smothered
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| （使）窒息， （使）透不过气( smother的过去式和过去分词 )； 覆盖； 忍住； 抑制 | |
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23
regain
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| vt.重新获得，收复，恢复 | |
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24
regained
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| 复得( regain的过去式和过去分词 )； 赢回； 重回； 复至某地 | |
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25
sobbing
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| <主方>Ⅰ adj.湿透的 | |
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hysterically
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| ad. 歇斯底里地 | |
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27
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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28
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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29
housekeeper
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| n.管理家务的主妇，女管家 | |
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30
awakened
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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31
shanty
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| n.小屋，棚屋；船工号子 | |
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sinister
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| adj.不吉利的，凶恶的，左边的 | |
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33
wilderness
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| n.杳无人烟的一片陆地、水等，荒漠 | |
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hemlock
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| n.毒胡萝卜，铁杉 | |
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35
ashen
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| adj.灰的 | |
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36
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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37
joyously
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| ad.快乐地, 高兴地 | |
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38
shingles
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| n.带状疱疹；（布满海边的）小圆石( shingle的名词复数 )；屋顶板；木瓦（板）；墙面板 | |
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39
braced
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| adj.拉牢的v.支住( brace的过去式和过去分词 )；撑牢；使自己站稳；振作起来 | |
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40
syllable
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| n.音节；vt.分音节 | |
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41
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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42
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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43
doomed
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| 命定的 | |
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44
scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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45
brook
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| n.小河，溪；v.忍受，容让 | |
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46
drizzle
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| v.下毛毛雨；n.毛毛雨，蒙蒙细雨 | |
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47
chaos
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| n.混乱，无秩序 | |
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48
strata
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| n.地层（复数）；社会阶层 | |
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49
loath
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| adj.不愿意的；勉强的 | |
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50
jeered
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| v.嘲笑( jeer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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51
chattering
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| n. （机器振动发出的）咔嗒声，(鸟等)鸣，啁啾 adj. 喋喋不休的，啾啾声的 动词chatter的现在分词形式 | |
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52
chipmunk
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| n.花栗鼠 | |
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53
wink
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| n.眨眼，使眼色，瞬间；v.眨眼，使眼色，闪烁 | |
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54
squeak
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| n.吱吱声，逃脱；v.（发出）吱吱叫，侥幸通过；（俚）告密 | |
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55
myriads
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| n.无数，极大数量( myriad的名词复数 ) | |
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56
crumble
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| vi.碎裂，崩溃；vt.弄碎，摧毁 | |
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57
devoured
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| 吞没( devour的过去式和过去分词 )； 耗尽； 津津有味地看； 狼吞虎咽地吃光 | |
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58
scythe
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| n. 长柄的大镰刀，战车镰； v. 以大镰刀割 | |
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59
gnaws
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| 咬( gnaw的第三人称单数 )； （长时间） 折磨某人； （使）苦恼； （长时间）危害某事物 | |
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60
tenacity
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| n.坚韧 | |
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61
desolate
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| adj.荒凉的，荒芜的；孤独的，凄凉的；v.使荒芜，使孤寂 | |
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62
tangle
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| n.纠缠；缠结；混乱；v.(使)缠绕；变乱 | |
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63
stumps
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| （被砍下的树的）树桩( stump的名词复数 )； 残肢； （板球三柱门的）柱； 残余部分 | |
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64
stump
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| n.残株，烟蒂，讲演台；v.砍断，蹒跚而走 | |
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fugitives
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| n.亡命者，逃命者( fugitive的名词复数 ) | |
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utensils
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| 器具，用具，器皿( utensil的名词复数 )； 器物 | |
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debris
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| n.瓦砾堆，废墟，碎片 | |
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brewing
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| n. 酿造, 一次酿造的量 动词brew的现在分词形式 | |
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weird
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| adj.古怪的，离奇的；怪诞的，神秘而可怕的 | |
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peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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squatting
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| v.像动物一样蹲下( squat的现在分词 )；非法擅自占用（土地或房屋）；为获得其所有权；而占用某片公共用地。 | |
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improvised
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| a.即席而作的,即兴的 | |
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faltered
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| （嗓音）颤抖( falter的过去式和过去分词 )； 支吾其词； 蹒跚； 摇晃 | |
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74
folly
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| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
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riveting
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| adj.动听的，令人着迷的，完全吸引某人注意力的；n.铆接（法） | |
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alder
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| n.赤杨树 | |
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buck
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| n.雄鹿，雄兔；v.马离地跳跃 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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axe
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| n.斧子；v.用斧头砍，削减 | |
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hatchet
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| n.短柄小斧；v.扼杀 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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trudging
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| vt.& vi.跋涉，吃力地走（trudge的现在分词形式） | |
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stifling
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| a.令人窒息的 | |
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drenched
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| adj.湿透的；充满的v.使湿透( drench的过去式和过去分词 )；在某人（某物）上大量使用（某液体） | |
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loomed
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| v.隐约出现，阴森地逼近( loom的过去式和过去分词 )；隐约出现，阴森地逼近 | |
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desultory
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| adj.散漫的，无方法的 | |
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shovelled
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| v.铲子( shovel的过去式和过去分词 )；锹；推土机、挖土机等的)铲；铲形部份 | |
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abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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almighty
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| adj.全能的，万能的；很大的，很强的 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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shreds
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| v.撕碎，切碎( shred的第三人称单数 )；用撕毁机撕毁（文件） | |
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kerosene
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| n.(kerosine)煤油，火油 | |
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