A dozen times over I felt that all was over, and that we might as well accept our fate. For we could hardly breathe, and now the sparks and flakes of fire and burning twigs came showering down upon us, as if sent forward by the main body of the flame to check us till the advance came on.
The latter part of that retreat before our merciless enemy became to me at last like a dream, during which I have some recollection of staggering along with my arm in Mr Raydon’s, and the people about us tottering and blundering along as if drunk with horror and exhaustion. Every now and then men went down, but they struggled up again, and staggered on, a crew of wild, bloodshot-eyed creatures, whose lips were parched, and white with foam; and then something cool was being splashed on my face.
“Coming round, sir?” said a familiar voice.
“Yes; he’ll be better soon. A terrible experience, Mr Barker.”
“Terrible isn’t the word for it, sir. I gave up a dozen times or so, and thought the end had come. Why, it was almost like a horse galloping. I never saw anything like it.”
“Nor wish to see anything like it again,” said Mr Raydon.
By this time I was looking round, to find that we were seated by the stream, where the water came bubbling and splashing down, while far below us the smoke and flame went up whirling into the sky.
“Better, my lad?” said Mr Raydon.
“Yes, only giddy,” I said; and after drinking heartily and washing my face in the fresh, cool water, I was ready to continue our journey.