“Not I, but you. You know Kirk Waltermyer by this time, and ef you don’t you’ll learn him soon enough. So hear what I say, and remember it, too. I know that the fire is comin’—will soon be here, but the first one that offers to stir will have a short journey, for I’ll send a bullet straight through his skull.”
“But to stand still, Waltermyer,” said Miles Morse, “when there is at least a chance of escape.”
“What do you take me for, stranger—a crazy man or a fool?”
“Neither, but—”
“Now you just keep cool and listen. Tie your horses heads together, every man of you, and mind you don’t make knots that will slip, for all the men on the perarer couldn’t keep them from stampedin’, when the flames roar around them.”
The command was obeyed, for there, as everywhere, in the hour of danger, the master spirit controls and directs—the firm hand and heart, and unflinching eye, tell of the pilot, that shall, unquestioned, guide, though the course he travels is crowded with shoals, quicksands and breaker-foaming rocks.
“Now bring us yours,” they said, when all the rest had been securely fettered.
“Not it! He ain’t none of your city-bred horses, and it ain’t the first time that he has been surrounded by red fire and black smoke. He knows his business here, better than you do,” and, at a motion, and slight touch of the bridle-rein, the noble black lay down and stretched his sinewy limbs, as if enjoying a grateful rest. This accomplished to his satisfaction, for he was very proud of this perfect command over his steed—(and what true horseman is not?) he stripped himself of his hunting-shirt, and threw it over his head, in such a fashion that it perfectly protected his lungs from smoke; then turning to his comrades, continued:
“Now, men, it is time you were to work. Just now you talked about being idle. Strip a circle clear of the grass—as large as ever you can, and mind you do it clean. At it, boys, hand and knife, tooth and nail! Ef you want to live, be active;” and he set the example, tearing up the rank grass with his immense strength, and piling it around the ring of horses.
Perchance, in his scorn at their want of knowledge, he had waited too long, for the mad flames were leaping upon them before they had time to make a cleared area of any considerable dimensions. In their very faces the fire came roaring on, darting through the black smoke, which rolled in clouds, threatening them every moment with destruction. Waltermyer saw that something must be done to turn it aside, or there was but little chance for escape.