The Young Wireless Operator-As a Fire Patrol Part 9

"Right here. We're making it in my shop."

"Will you be there to-morrow?"

"Sure. All day."

"We'll call you."

"Good! I'll listen in every hour on the hour. Then you can get me almost any time."

"Bully for you. We're going to fish to-morrow, but we may catch so many in the morning that we won't want to fish after dinner. I'll let you know how we make out. Good luck to you all. Wish you were here. We'll bring you a nice mess of fish, anyway. Good-night."

"Good-night and good luck."

"I wish they were here," said Lew, as Charley covered the instruments to protect them from dampness, and moved over near his chum. "It doesn't seem right to be in the forest without the whole crowd. This makes me think of our camp in the forest near the Elk City reservoir, when we were hot on the trail of the dynamiters. I'd hate to camp out at this time of year without any fire."

"Well, let's turn in. We want to get up early to-morrow and try those crabs. I'll bet we get a bunch of trout."

"Bet we do, too," replied Charley.

Little did he dream that on the morrow he would be engaged in matters far more serious than catching trout.

Chapter VII

The Forest Afire

The earliest rays of light had hardly penetrated beneath the giant pines the next morning before the two boys were astir. Their breakfast was quickly cooked and eaten. Then they buckled on their bait boxes, now bulging with worms and crayfish. They carried as well their books of flies. And Charley slipped the little axe into his belt, to have something to chop with in case they wanted to hunt for whiteworms.

"Let's go back where we caught that big fellow last night," said Lew.

"There may be some more like him in those deep pools."

"All right. Come on."

With nothing but their little rods to carry, they made fast time through the forest, and had already reached the pool in which the big trout was taken, before the first ray of sunlight came flashing among the tree trunks.

"We're going to have a fine day," said Charley. "It's my turn to catch a fish. Here goes for a try."

He baited his hook with a crayfish, and cautiously made his way toward the brink of the brook. Half-way he paused and straightened up, sniffing the air. Then he turned and looked at Lew.

"Smell anything?" he asked.

Lew had also detected a taint in the fresh morning air. "Smells like smoke," he said. "Probably some fisherman cooking his breakfast."

Charley turned toward the brook again, then once more faced his companion.

"People don't cook with leaves," he said soberly. "That isn't wood smoke, that's burning leaves."

For a moment the two boys looked at each other in silence.

"You don't suppose----" began Lew, but Charley cut him short.

"Let's make sure. Which way is that smoke coming from?" He stepped to the brook and dipped a finger in the cold water. Then he held his hand aloft.

"There's so little wind stirring I can't tell which way it's blowing," he said. "One side of my finger feels as cold as the other."

Again he tried it. There was just a suggestion of an air current. "Seems to be blowing straight up the valley," he said.

"I'll try a match," said Lew. He took his waterproof match box from his pocket and drew forth a match, which he lighted on his heel. "You're right," he said. "The flame blows up-stream a little. What shall we do?"

"It doesn't seem possible that the woods can be afire," answered Charley.

"But let's make sure. If the forest is afire and we can put it out, it would be a crime if we don't. The memory of it would haunt me the rest of my life."

"All right. We'll go down-stream. If there is a fire, we'll do our best to put it out. If there isn't any fire, there's no harm done. We can probably find as many fish down-stream as there are here. We'll save time if we unjoint our rods."

Quickly the lines were reeled up and the rods packed in their cloth cases.

Then, with nothing to hamper them, the two boys hurried down the valley.

Gradually the odor of burning leaves grew stronger. A very little breeze arose, blowing straight in their faces. It was heavy with the smell of fire. Ahead of them the forest began to look gray and misty, as though a heavy night fog still covered the earth. But both boys knew that the gray blanket was no night mist. It was smoke. They quickened their pace. The smoke cloud grew denser. Then a dull, reddish glow appeared. There could no longer be any doubt. The forest was afire.

"Come on," cried Charley. "We've got to grab it quick."

As they started to run, Lew protested: "Not too fast. We'll tire ourselves out before we get there. We may have a long fight before we put the fire out."

The smoke now rolled past them in dense clouds. The red glow grew brighter. In a few moments they reached the fire itself. It was in an opening where the timber had been cut and little but brush remained. It was a ground fire that crept slowly along among the leaves. Yet it had already spread until it seemed to stretch across half the valley.

"If we can only put it out before the wind comes up," said Charley, "we can save the forest."

He looked about for a low tree, discovered a thick, young pine, rapidly chopped off some bushy branches, and again sheathed his axe. Each boy seized a branch.

"Our rods--what shall we do with them?" asked Lew.

"Throw 'em in the run. Fire can't hurt 'em there and we can get 'em at any time."

Lew rushed over to the brook and put the rods in the water. He set a flat stone on them to keep the current from moving them. Then he dipped his pine bough in the brook and began to beat out the flames, working straight out from the bank. Charley joined him. Rapidly they rained blows upon the fire. Rod after rod they advanced. The heat from even so small a fire was great. The smoke was blinding and stifling. Heat and smoke and their own exertions tired them rapidly.

"We've got to take it easier," said Lew, after a little, "or we'll be all in before we get the fire half out."

Of necessity they slackened their efforts. As they wore out their weapons, they cut new ones. Every little while they rested. They were tiring fast.

At the same tune, the wind was beginning to freshen. Here in the open there was nothing to break its force. The flames leaped higher under its breath and began to run over the ground instead of crawling. The fire itself created a draft. The greater the draft, the hotter the flame became, and the hotter the fire grew, the stronger blew the draft.

"We're never going to do it," panted Charley, after a while. "The wind is blowing harder all the time. We must call help."

He looked at his watch. "Twenty minutes of seven!" he e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed. "How far do you think we are from camp?"