CHAPTER IV—DRAFTED TO FIGHT A FOREST FIRE
“There’s no fire, Bill,” said Bob. “You smell the smoke from our fire. When we put it out, it smoked terribly and the odor is all around us.”
“No, Bob, our fire has been out too long. There’s a fire somewhere near here sure as shooting. I can’t see the smoke, but I can surely smell it.”
“Well, what shall we do about it?” asked Bob.
“There’s nothing that we can do for the present,” answered Bill. “Let’s pack up and get going. We ought to pick out some place above here on the river where we can make a good camp for the night.”
They packed their equipment in their car and started up the road. The river was beautiful with the large trees on both sides. The sun was still high in the sky and here and there, where the road came out into the open, it seemed as if they had emerged from a tunnel. Everything was so much brighter. There was practically no wind and they came to long reaches where the river ran along for a considerable distance without a ripple. At other places the river ran over rapids and the splashing, bubbling water presented a decided contrast to the placid surface of the other parts of the river.
As they continued, the river became narrower, the valley in which they were traveling more confined, the sides of the mountains steeper and the vegetation thicker. They were gradually ascending into the mountains. Here and there they obtained a view through the trees of the country ahead or behind. The mountain sides were thickly covered with trees, which formed a beautiful green covering that followed the contour of the ridges and valleys. Once in a while they saw an area which had been burned over at some previous time. The snags, tall, gaunt, white skeletons of what had been magnificent trees, were scattered through the second growth timber. Nature was trying to remove all traces of the fire with the small trees, but the snags stood there as grim reminders of the forest’s former grandeur.
Here and there a pioneer had taken out a homestead and had cleared the ground in the immediate vicinity of his crude buildings. Usually some attempt had been made to cultivate part of the cleared area, but there were always a few sections still covered with the stumps of trees which had been cut. A couple of horses, several cows and some pigs roamed through the clearing as the nucleus of future herds of live stock. Bill marveled at the bravery of the men bringing their families to such a wild section of the country.
They came out on an open space where the river made a sharp curve. The road had been built on top of a steep cliff. Ahead of them was a narrow cut in the mountains through which the river flowed. Beyond the cut Bill saw what he thought to be a cloud of smoke. It seemed to be as thick and dense as a rain cloud. Bob stopped the car when Bill pointed at it.
“There must be a whopping big fire ahead of us,” said Bill. “I guess that Cecil must have arrived there right in the thick of it.”
“You must have an awful good nose, if you could smell that from where we were, five miles down the river,” said Bob. “It’s a fire all right, and looks as if it were a big one.”
“Let’s go on up and see it,” suggested Bill. “It must be an awful but fascinating thing to see.”
“All right, we are on our way,” said Bob, as he started the car again.
As they drove farther along the road the cleared spaces became less frequent. The timber closed over the road and shut out the rays of the sun almost completely. There was no doubt now as to the presence of the smell of burning wood in the atmosphere. Finally they reached a point where they were under the smoke. The sun was almost entirely obliterated from view. It was just like traveling on a cloudy day. Prior to their reaching the smoke cloud, the sun had reflected itself from the bright leaves of the trees, but now there was just a red glow which marked the position of the sun.
“We must be getting close to it now,” said Bob after a while. “The smoke is so thick that one could cut it with a knife.”
“It’s probably farther off than we think,” replied Bill. “The wind is blowing from the East and bringing the smoke toward us.
“I think that we had better stop here,” said Bob. “I don’t want to lose this car, and if we get too close the fire may burn it up before we can get it out.”
“We will probably run into the fire-fighters long before we get within the danger zone,” said Bill. “With Cecil present, they probably have certainly gathered a large bunch of men together to fight the fire.”
“We will go along a little farther and see what develops,” replied Bob.
The road wound through the trees and followed the curve of the river so that they could not see very far ahead. The visibility was further restricted by the high bushes which bordered the road and the river. They were driving slowly along a particularly narrow curving section of the road, when Bob saw another car coming around a bend just a short distance ahead. Bob slammed on his brakes. It looked as if there was going to be a collision, for the other car was approaching very rapidly. There was no room to pass, for the river was close on one side and the other side was marked by large trees.
Bill and Bob could do nothing as their car had already stopped, but the other was still moving forward. Bill at first thought of jumping out, but he saw that the other car was slowing up and decided to stick with Bob. The other car came to a stop just as the bumpers hit.
Neither Bill nor Bob had looked at the occupants of the car, as they were too busy trying to make up their minds just how hard the two cars were going to hit. Consequently they were watching the car rather than the occupants. When they did look up, they saw Cecil at the wheel.
“Wait a minute,” said Bob. “I’ll back up and you can pass.”
“All right,” said Cecil. “That was rather close. This road is not very wide and it is far from straight. I am sorry that I did not see you sooner, but I was thinking about other things.”
Bob found it rather difficult to back his car along the winding road, but he finally reached a point where there was room enough for the cars to pass. Cecil stopped his car as he came abreast.
“Where’s the fire?” asked Bill.
“It’s about four miles up the road,” replied Cecil. “It’s burning down the west slope of the next ridge.”
“We thought that we would go up and see it,” said Bill.
“I am afraid that you will do more than that,” interjected Cecil. “You will have to go up and join the fire-fighting crew.”
“We don’t know much about fighting fires,” said Bob. “But we will do what we can.”
“You will never learn any younger,” said Cecil. “Then, again, it is one of the accepted laws of the Northwest woods that anyone can be drafted to fight forest fires. We need all of the help that we can get on this one, as it has the earmarks of developing into a rip-snorter. Continue on this road for another three miles and then you will come to Sam Crouch’s clearing. Turn there and leave your car at his place. Then take your shovel and axe and follow a trail that runs almost due east from his place. Out on the trail about a mile you will see the first of the fire-fighters. Report to the forest warden, Earl Simmons. He will give you something to do and tell you how to do it. I am on my way back to Portland. It seems that several fires have broken out in other parts of this district. I have to get back on the job. I am sorry that I will not be able to go fishing with you again on this trip. Good luck to you.”
Cecil had gone almost before he had finished speaking. Bill and Bob watched the car disappear around a turn in the road and then all was quiet for a moment.
“There goes our fishing trip,” said Bob. “I had hopes of finding a nice place somewhere along here where we could fish for a couple of hours and then make camp for the night.”
“We thought that we were getting away from the constraining requirements of Army life, but we have apparently run into another service which has just as rigid demands,” announced Bill. “I guess that our fishing trip will be postponed for a while. Let’s go and see what it’s all about.”
Once more they started up the river road. The next three miles were covered very slowly as the road was not very wide and the curves were almost continuous. For a while they were afraid that they would not know Sam Crouch’s place when they came to it, but they were soon disabused of the idea, for they did not come to any clearing. They were passing through almost virgin woods.
Bob watched the speedometer with a view of checking up on the distance. It showed that they had traveled three miles, but there was not a sign of a clearing. Bob stopped the car.
“Here’s the three miles, but where’s the clearing?” he said.
“Shove along a little farther,” suggested Bill. “Perhaps your ideas of three miles from your speedometer and Cecil’s idea are not synchronized.”
“I don’t want to run right into that fire,” replied Bob. “The road may lead right through it. We are so close now that I think that I hear the flames crackling. Can you hear them?”
“I not only hear them, but also imagine that I can see them,” replied Bill. “The fire is not far off, but drive around that next bend.”
They turned the next bend and came out at the clearing. Bob drove into the cut-over area and stopped his car near the house.
“It’s the right place, all right,” said Bill. “I saw the name ‘S. Crouch’ on the mail box by the road.”
There was not a soul around the house. The chickens and live stock, the growing vegetables in the garden and the farm implements in the yard indicated that the owner could not be far away, but he was nowhere in the immediate vicinity.
“Is anyone home?” called Bill at the top of his voice.
There was no answer.
“I guess that it is up to us to find that trail leading east from here without assistance,” said Bill. “There is no doubt about our being near the fire now, is there?”
“You get the shovel and I’ll get the axe,” said Bob. “Let’s see if we can find the trail.”
“There appear to be a flock of trails leading out of here,” said Bill as they walked along. “We are going toward the fire, and I hope that we are on the right one.”
The trail wound around as it mounted the ridge. It was just wide enough for one man, so that Bill walked in front and Bob followed. The smoke became much denser, the crackling of the burning wood much stronger, and it seemed as if any moment they would walk right into the fire.
“Cecil said that it was only a mile from the Crouch house,” said Bob.
“Well, we haven’t walked a mile yet,” replied Bill as he quickened his pace.
They reached the top of the ridge and rounded a turn in the trail. Bill stopped short, for directly ahead of him was a small, rotund man standing with his back toward them.
“Is Mr. Simmons anywhere near here?” asked Bill
“You bet your neck he is,” replied the man. “I am Mr. Simmons. What can I do for you before you start work on this fire?”
“Nothing,” replied Bill. “Mr. Cecil sent us up to help you.”