The Young Wireless Operator-As a Fire Patrol Part 11

The trail led straight toward the log. Charley increased his speed. As he neared the log he gave a cry of terror and bounded forward like a shot.

What Charley had mistaken for a tree trunk was his chum's prostrate form.

The flames had almost reached it.

With his brush Charley fell on the fire savagely and beat it out for the s.p.a.ce of a rod or two on either side of Lew's body. Then he rushed back to his chum and knelt beside him. Lew was unconscious but breathing regularly. His nose was half buried in leaves and moss. That fact had probably saved his life, for it had given him pure air to breathe.

Charley drew Lew over his shoulder until he had him doubled up like a jack-knife, and could therefore carry him easily. Then, at a steady pace, he set out for the brook. Soon he pa.s.sed the end of the line of fire. In a few minutes more he reached the stream.

He laid his chum close beside the run, felt his pulse and listened to his breathing. Lew's heart was beating regularly and he was breathing easily.

Charley sighed with relief. "He's all right," he muttered.

Then he filled his hat with water and sprinkled some on Lew's face. Lew's eyelids flickered. Then his eyes opened.

"Where am I, Charley?" he asked. "What are you doing?"

For a moment he lay still. Then suddenly he sat bolt upright.

"I know now," he said. "The forest is on fire. I was fighting it and you went to call help. Did you get Willie? And how did you find me? I guess I got too much smoke. I started for the brook. That's all I can remember.

I'm all right now. We're going back."

He got to his feet, but at first had to be supported. Charley made him lie down again. In a few minutes his strength seemed to return to him. He got up.

"I'm all right now, Charley," he insisted. "I mightn't be awake yet if you hadn't thrown that water on my face. Thanks, old man."

Charley did not tell Lew how near to death he had been. Instead, he said, "Are you sure you're strong enough to tackle that fire again?"

"Sure as shooting," nodded Lew.

"Then come on. The fire has an awful start on us. The forester wants us to try to hold the header by back-firing."

As they started toward the blaze Lew said, "We'll have to work some distance in advance of it. If only we had rakes we might conquer it even yet."

They made their way to a point well in front of the header. Then they cut sticks and made little bundles of them to use like rakes.

"I'll clear away the leaves and you start the fire," directed Charley.

He began raking away the leaves, clearing a sort of path about two feet wide straight across the line of the advancing header. Lew lighted the leaves on the side of the cleared s.p.a.ce toward the header, following close upon Charley's heels. From time to time he ran back along the cleared s.p.a.ce to make sure the flames had not jumped across it. Wherever they had, he beat them out with his brush. On the other side of the cleared s.p.a.ce the flames slowly worked their way toward the onrushing header, widening with every minute the barren area where the flames could find no fuel to feed upon.

Rod after rod Charley cleared a narrow lane and Lew kept close behind him with his torch. With amazing rapidity they extended their line.

"If only we had the Wireless Patrol here," panted Lew, "we'd lick this old fire to a frazzle."

On and on they went. To save their strength they exchanged tasks at intervals. Every few minutes they faced about and ran back over their line to make sure no flames had crossed the cleared s.p.a.ce. The air was dense with smoke, but the heat from their back-fire was trifling in comparison with that of the main conflagration. The stand of timber grew thicker, breaking the force of the breeze more and more. Their back-fire ate its way into the wind much faster, and the real fire came on slower. It seemed to be getting farther and farther away.

"We've pa.s.sed the header," cried Charley exultantly. "We ought to be able to hold the main fire."

They rested a moment, then went at their task with renewed hope and vigor.

Rod after rod they cleared a path and fired the leaves on the windward side of this lane. Finally their line grew so long that they could no longer guard it properly.

"If only we had half a dozen boys to patrol the line," sighed Lew. "I'm afraid the flames will jump across somewhere. Then all we have done will be in vain."

"We'll make a trip over the whole line," declared Charley, "and be sure it's safe. Then we'll stop back-firing and beat out the flames again. It's the only sure way I can think of."

He drew his axe and cut fresh boughs. Then they went back along their line. In one place flames had already leaped across, but they fell on them vigorously with their bushes and soon put them out. They patrolled the line until they felt sure it was safe.

"If we can put out the flames between our back-fire and the brook," said Lew, "it will make our job a great deal easier. We've already put out part of them."

They began to work their way back to the brook, following the line of flame and beating out the fire foot by foot as they advanced. There were many things in their favor. The dense stand of trees at this point not only checked the wind and made the fire less fierce, but the absence of underbrush also helped to check it. There was little for it to feed upon but leaves. So the two boys could work close to it and beat it out with ease, though the smoke was stifling. Only lads of great determination and courage would have stuck to the task.

With frequent pauses, necessary for rest, they went on, foot by foot, yard after yard, rod upon rod. "We're going to make it," cried Lew presently.

"It's only a little distance to the end of the flames."

They increased their efforts. Quickly they reached the end of the line of fire. Beyond that the woods had been saved by their first efforts.

"Now we'll go back over the line," said Charley, "and make sure the fire doesn't start up anywhere."

"I'm dying of thirst," said Lew. "Let's get a drink first. We are not far from the brook."

They hurried to the run and threw themselves flat on the bank, drinking copious draughts of the cool and refreshing water.

"I wonder what time it is," said Charley, as they got to their feet again.

"It seems to me that we've been fighting fire for hours." He looked at his watch. "We have," he cried. "It's after eleven o'clock. The fire crew has been on the way four hours. They'll follow their fire trails and get here in a fraction of the time it took us to come in. They certainly ought to be here soon. If we can hold the fire for a little bit longer the forest will be safe."

"Come on," called Lew. "We've got to do it."

Again they went along the line of their back-fire. For rod after rod the fire was conquered. In other places it still burned; but the back-fire had now eaten its way so far to windward of the cleared s.p.a.ce that there was no longer any danger of the flames leaping past the barrier. So they covered the entire length of their line and found it safe.

When they reached the main fire again they began to beat it out with branches. Rod after rod they continued to work their way. But at best their progress was painfully slow.

"Lew," said Charley of a sudden, "while we are beating out these flames here, there may be another header in front of us traveling like a racehorse. I'm going to run ahead and see. You stay here. Call every little bit and I'll answer. I'll be back in a few minutes."

He made his way along the line of the fire. Here in the thick timber it still burned slowly and feebly. He could trace the line of fire far ahead, and it seemed to have advanced with remarkable evenness. Nowhere could be seen a header of flame jutting out far in advance of the main line.

"If the wind doesn't rise," he muttered to himself, "we're going to make it."

He went on, trying to locate the other end of the fire. Behind him he heard Lew halloing. Before he could turn to answer, an echo came back from the mountain in front of him.

"If only that were a real voice," muttered Charley to himself.

Then he stood stock-still. Shout after shout came ringing in his ears. "It is a real voice," he cried. "The fire crew is coming."

A moment later a dozen forms became visible in the smoke. They were running along the edge of the fire, evidently trying to determine where to begin their attack on it. At their head was the forester. He came directly toward Charley, but gave no sign of recognition. Nor, could Charley have seen himself, would he have wondered at it. With his face blackened by smoke and caked with blood from innumerable little cuts and scratches, his hands grimy and almost raw, and his clothes torn in a hundred places, Charley could hardly have been recognized by his own mother.

"How far across the valley does this fire extend?" asked the forester.

"You are almost at the end of it, sir," replied Charley.

"It's making a tremendous smoke for such a little blaze, then," said the forester.