"You ain't got much chance," he said; "I reckon at the ridge on the other side of the river you can hold her, but she's crept along the gully an' she'll just go a-whoopin' up the hill. I wouldn't waste any time at the river."
"But there's the mill!"
"We ain't no ways to blame because Peavey Jo built his mill in front of a fire. An', anyhow, the mill's in the middle of a clearing."
The Supervisor frowned.
"His mill is on National Forest land, and we ought to try and save it," he said.
"I'm goin' clear to the ridge," remarked the Ranger, "an' I reckon you-all had better, too. I ain't achin' none to see the mill burn, but I'd as lieve it was Peavey Jo's as any one else."
"I'd like to know," Merritt repeated, "who set that fire."
The Ranger made no answer, but walked off to where his horse was tethered and rode away. The other party without a moment's delay struck off to the trail leading to the mill. The distance was not great, but Wilbur had lost all count of time. It seemed to him that he had either been fighting fire or riding at high speed through luridly lighted forest glades for years and years, and that it would never stop.
At the mill they found a wild turmoil of excitement. All the hands were at work, most of them wetting down the lumber, while other large piles which were close to the edge of the forest were being moved out of danger. The horses all had been taken from the stables, and the various sheds and buildings were being thoroughly soaked. The big mill engine was throbbing, lines of hose playing in every direction, for although the timber around the mill had been cleared as much as possible, negligence had been shown in permitting some undergrowth to spring up unchecked. Owing to the conformation of the land, too, the bottom on which the mill stood was smaller than customary.
In the early morning light the great form of Peavey Jo seemed to assume giant proportions. He was here, there, and everywhere at the moment, and his blustering voice could be heard bellowing out orders, which, to do him justice, were the best possible. As soon as the Supervisor and his party appeared he broke out into a violent tirade against them for not keeping a fit watch over the forest and allowing a fire to get such a headway on a night when in the evening there had been so little wind, whereas now a gale was rising fast. But Merritt did not waste breath in reply; he simply ordered his men to get in and do all they could to insure the safety of the mill.