VII
A RACE THROUGH THE FLAMES
The fall had been an exceptionally dry one in that section of the middle west, and in consequence several forest fires had occurred, several not far from Bixton. Thus, when a few mornings following Jack’s arrival he and Alex proposed a visit to the old house in the woods where Alex had had his thrilling experience with the foreign trackmen, Mrs. Ward objected.
“You know there was a fire but five miles west yesterday, Alex,” she said.
“But that was only in the grass along the track, Mother, and the section-men soon had it out. They are watching everywhere. And on the first sign of smoke we will light for home like good fellows—won’t we, Jack?” he promised. Somewhat reluctantly Mrs. Ward finally consented, and gave the boys a lunch, and they set off to make a day of it.
Paying a visit first to the abandoned brick-yard, it was noon when Jack and Alex emerged from the woods at the rear of the deserted old cabin.
“So that’s it!” exclaimed Jack with keen interest as they went forward. “And up there is the very door you dropped from, I suppose?”
“Yes, that is it. Still half open, too—just as I left it. And over there is the barn and cow-stable. But let us have lunch first, and I’ll explain everything afterward,” Alex said, leading the way toward the house. “I am as hollow as a bass-drum.”
Ten minutes later, sitting on the cabin floor just within the doorway, eating and chatting, the two boys became suddenly silent, and sniffed at the air. With an exclamation both leaped to their feet, and to the door.
Rolling from the trees at the southern border of the clearing was a white bank of smoke. The woods were on fire!