CHAPTER VI.—ABOVE THE CLOUDS AT NIGHT.
The wind gained strength as the heat of the forest fires increased. The roaring of the gale and the heavy undertone of the racing flames effectually drowned the voice of the forester, and it was only by the motion of his lips that the boys knew that he was trying to talk to them.
Presently he threw his hands high above his head, weaponless, then lowered one and beckoned to them. Still keeping grasp on their revolvers, the boys approached him. His face was deadly pale, save for the glow of the fire which shone unnaturally on the wall behind him.
“This is no time for accusations,” he shouted. “We must do something to check the fire.”
“What is to be done?” Jack demanded, half won over by the apparent distress of the fellow.
“The blaze will burn itself out against the mountains,” was the reply, shouted at the top of the speaker’s lungs, “but the fire in the cañon must be checked by going on ahead and felling trees.”
“Won’t it burn itself out there, too?” asked Pat.
“I’m afraid not,” was the shrill reply. “There is an opening from the top of the cañon to a valley in a fold of the hills. The fire will do incalculable damage if it passes through that.”
“What do you suppose we can do against a fire like that?” demanded Pat. “An army could not stop the blaze now.”
“You are mistaken!” shrilled the other. “Three choppers can clear a space which the fire will not cross.”