His practiced eye also detected a faint bluish haze that rose behind the ridge at the North,—a haze altogether unlike that which foretells a storm. In fact, the sun glinting from the wings of the giant wings and from the glacial-polished slopes beneath forbade that explanation.
Like most backwoodsmen, the old prospector said the least when he felt the most. His lean body suddenly grew tense. “It’s a fire,” he told himself. “An everlastingly big one, too.”
“That’s a DeHaviland,” decided Ace, as the huge bombing-plane came nearer. “Must be the Fire Patrol!”
A moment more and the buzzing apparatus began sinking into a “pancake” landing,—fortunately, just above the wide sweep of the granite butte. Could it be engine trouble, Norris wondered, or had it seen their signals? Lucky they were on an elevation.
With the sound like a saw-mill in full blast, the great ship jolted to terra firma, within shouting distance,—and hardly had she come to a full stop than the boys had raced to her side.
“I say!” exclaimed a familiar voice, as the observer climbed out. It was Ranger Radcliffe! “Where did you folks drop from?”
Norris explained the marooned camping expedition.
Radcliffe’s face was lined with fatigue and anxiety. “Big fire off there!” he motioned. “Been directing a hundred men. Broke out in three places, all within twenty-four hours, and not even an electric storm to account for it. Want to help?” And as the little party voiced unanimous consent, he proceeded to draft them in, at the Government nine dollars per day.
He could have compelled their services, as he had that of a party of campers down towards Kings’ River. In a few words, his voice vibrating to his high nervous tension, the young forest officer had them all thrilling with patriotic fervor.
“Now get your things,” he directed. “May have to fight it for a week! You can turn your burros out to forage for themselves, and I guess you’ll find them again when this is over. If you don’t the Government will probably square it with you.”