Chapter Fifty Four.
We make a fresh Start.
The wounded prisoners were not got rid of for quite a fortnight, during which time matters settled down again into the regular routine, one of my principal tasks being helping Mr Gunson to take little walks, then longer and longer ones, after which we used to go and have a chat with Grey, who made very light of his wounds.
One day I asked leave of Mr Raydon to go and have a look at the valley where we had had so narrow an escape. He gave me leave freely enough; and as Mr Gunson did not care to accompany me, saying he had no taste for works in charcoal, I asked leave for Esau to come; and in due time we stood at the mouth of the valley gazing up.
“’Nuff to make a fellow sit down and cry,” said Esau, as I recalled our escape.
“Pitiful!” I said sadly.
“Ah, that ain’t half strong enough,” he said, as we tramped on amongst the ashes and charred wood, with the tall stumps of the great pines standing burned for the most part to sharp points, and looking like landmarks to show the terrible devastation in the once lovely wooded vale.
“I only feel as if I could not use words strong enough,” I replied, as we slowly tramped on, with the charred wood cracking under our feet, and the only thing that redeemed the burned region being the beautiful stream which rushed and leaped and sparkled, just as it had been wont before the fire scorched the whole place into a desert.
“Why, it’ll take hundreds of years for the trees to grow up again, if they ever do, for it strikes me the fire’s spoiled even the ground.”
“It may,” I said sadly.