“Halt!” roared Mr Raydon. “It is death to go on. Back at once.”
“But the sides,” cried Barker; “can’t we all climb up here?”
“The fire would be on us before we were half-way up, even if we could climb, man,” said Mr Raydon, “which I doubt. Back at once!”
“Yes; quick! quick!” shouted one of the men. “Look, look!”
It did not need his shouts, for we could see the flames rushing up the higher trees, which seemed to flash with light, as if they had been strewn with powder; the heat was growing unbearable, and already I felt faint and giddy.
It was quite time we were in full retreat, for there above our heads was a pall of black smoke, dotted with flakes of flame, and a horrible panic now smote the men as they hurried on.
“Keep close to me, Gordon,” said Mr Raydon, glancing back. “Why, it is coming on like a hurricane of fire.”
It was too true, for the hot wind rushed up between the towering walls of the valley as if through a funnel, and before many minutes had passed we knew that the forest was on fire where we so lately stood, and that it was rapidly growing into a race between man’s endurance and the wild rush of the flames.
I looked back twice, to feel the hot glow of the fire on my face, and to see the lurid glare coming on with the black smoke-clouds wreathing up at terrific speed. Then as we tramped on with the roar behind us as of some vast furnace, there came explosions like the firing of guns; the crashes of small arms; and from time to time the fall of some tree sounded like thunder.
The men needed no spurring to get on out of the dense labyrinth of trees, through which we toiled on hot to suffocation, breathless, and in mortal dread of being overtaken by the fearful enemy roaring in our rear. For, so rapid was the advance of the fire, that for a certainty a ten minutes’ halt would have been enough to have brought the line of fire up to us.