“It will be night before we get to the Fort,” I heard the former say; “and who knows what may have happened there!”
“But your men will make a fight for it,” said Barker.
“My principal fellow, Grey, will fight to the death,” said Mr Raydon; “but there are not enough to hold the place. It is ruin and destruction. I ought not to have come.”
“Hush!” I said, excitedly. “What’s that?”
Mr Raydon stopped short, and held up his hand, when a low, dull, roaring sound as of a flood of water rushing up the valley was heard increasing rapidly.
“Great heavens!” cried Mr Raydon, excitedly; “they have fired the forest down below.”
And as he spoke there was a faint hot puff of air borne toward us, and with it the unmistakable odour of burning wood.
A thrill of excitement ran through the men at the above words, and they looked at one another. The next moment they would have rushed back up the valley, but Mr Raydon cried sharply—
“No, no, my lads; the fire cannot be right across the valley; let’s go on and try and pass it.”
They seemed to be ready to obey the first who gave them orders, and Mr Raydon led on again, but in less then ten minutes, during which the hot puffs of air and the roar had increased rapidly, we were face to face with the fact that the fire was coming up like some terrible tide, evidently stretching right across from side to side, and already above our heads there were clouds of pungent smoke; and the crackle, roar, and hiss of the burning wood was rapidly growing louder.