"Best thing you could have done," he said. "You'll feel worse for a few minutes, an' then you'll find that cat-nap is just as good as a whole night's sleep. That is," he added, "it is for a while. What's the fire like? I tried to get somethin' out of Ben, but he was actin' queerly, an' I left him alone. But he seemed to know pretty well where it was."
Wilbur tried to explain the story of the fire, but his tale soon became incoherent, and before they had ridden another half a mile, his story had died down to a few mutterings and he was asleep again. The old hunter rode beside him, his hand ready to catch him should he waver in the saddle, but Kit loped along at her easiest gait and the boy scarcely moved. Rifle-Eye woke him again when they left the trail and broke into the forest.
"I reckon you better wake up, son," he said, "landin' suddenly on your head on a rock is some abrupt as an alarm clock."
Wilbur dropped the reins to stretch himself.
"I feel a lot better now," he announced, "just as good as ever. Except for my hands," he added ruefully, as returning wakefulness brought back with it the consciousness of smart and hurt, "and my feet are mighty sore, too. We're right near the fire, too, aren't we," he continued. "Gee, that was nifty sleeping nearly all the way. I guess I must have felt you were around, Rifle-Eye, and so I slept easily, knowing it would come out all right with you here."
"I ain't never been famous for hypnotizin' any forest fire that I've heard of," said the old hunter, smiling, "but I've got a lurkin' idea somewhere that we'll get this headed off all right. An' in any case, there ain't much folks livin' in the path of the fire, if the wind keeps the way she is now."
Wilbur thought for a moment over the lay of the land and the direction in which the flames were moving.
"There's the mill," he said suddenly and excitedly.
"Yes, son," said the old hunter. "I'd been thinkin' of that. There's the mill."