The shouts of the fire fighters were growing plainer now. Groups of men, gesticulating excitedly and carrying shovels and sodden sacks, brushed past them.
The boys ran with them, beside themselves with feverish excitement. They reached the top of the hill. Down below them, writhed and twisted and fought the grinning demon of fire!
CHAPTER XIX
FIRE
Everywhere men were working, driving themselves and others mercilessly. A hundred yards back of the fire some were digging a ditch while others hacked madly with hatchets at outstretching branches of trees.
Close to the fire line men fought grimly, resolutely beating at creeping tendrils of flame with the wet sacks, eyes bloodshot and wild in blackened faces, burned hands returning again and again to the attack.
Reinforcements were continually arriving, as well as fresh sacks and shovels from the ranger station. The Radio Boys, arming themselves with some of these, made their way as close as possible to the fire line.
One man, whose hands had been very seriously burned and who still refused to leave his post was carried off by two of his comrades, shouting and protesting wildly. The boys filled in the gap.
The smoke stung their eyes torturingly, flying particles of burning wood and leaves seared their flesh and the sweat poured from them. They only worked the harder.
“It’s this danged wind!” groaned a man next to them, stopping for a moment to wipe his tear-filled, smarting eyes on the sleeve of his shirt. “If it’d stop we might have a chance——” He paused, sniffed the air inquiringly while the expression of his face slowly changed. “Well, I’ll be hanged!” he said softly. “If it ain’t!”
It was then the boys noticed what in the fever of the fight they had overlooked, that the wind seemed indeed to have blown itself out. At least there was a lull.