“Listen! What was that? Stop!” yelled Bob
They stopped paddling and listened. Nothing was heard now but the snapping wood. But they had all heard it—a thin, high-pitched scream, like a child’s cry—or perhaps the cry of some lynx or wildcat trapped in the burning forest.
“It was some of the Larues! It was one of the children!” cried Alice.
“Must have been. Let me ashore. I’ll find it!” Carl exclaimed.
“You won’t go into that blazing wood!” ejaculated Bob.
“It isn’t blazing yet, but it soon will be. I can always get back to the river if I’m forced out. No danger. Keep a close lookout for me if I have to run for it.”
Bob looked doubtful, Alice frightened, but Carl shoved the boat a little nearer the land and sprang out into the shallow water. He deliberately dipped entirely under, came up dripping, and disappeared into the smoky woods, waving a farewell over his shoulder.
The shore was lined with dense thickets of willows and small hemlocks, which he brushed through. Pausing, he tried to look about him, but the smoke-haze was so dense that he could not see any distance.
“Any one here?” he shouted. “Larue! Child! Petite!”
But there was no answer. Carl pushed further into the woods. There was no fire yet in sight, and the wind made the air less choking than it had been on the day before, but the smashing and roar of the flames in the forest not a quarter of a mile away was tremendous.