“Which way?” cried Jack, as they sprang forth. “The railroad?”
Alex darted to the corner of the house and glanced about. “No! The wind has swung to the southwest! We’d never make it! North, for the brick-yard! Come on!
“If we are cornered there, we can swim the river,” he explained as they ran. “The fire isn’t likely to cross the water.”
They reached the trees, and immediately found themselves in a madly frightened procession. At their feet scurried rabbits, squirrels, chipmunks. A fox flashed by within a yard of them. Overhead, birds screamed and called in terror.
On they dashed, and a ghostly yellow light began to envelop them. “The smoke overhead,” said Alex. “It will soon be down here, too.”
“I smell it,” panted Jack a moment later. Soon they began to feel it in their eyes.
Jack began to lag. “How much farther, Alex?” he gasped.
“Only a short distance, now. Yes, here we are,” announced Alex, as brighter light appeared ahead of them. A moment after they broke into the clearing.
Without slackening pace Alex headed for the old semaphore. “From up there we can see just how we stand,” he explained. Almost exhausted, they reached it, and Alex ran up the ladder. Scrambling onto the little platform, he turned toward the river, two hundred yards distant. A cry broke from him.
“We are cut off! The fire has crossed the river!”