Jess of the Rebel Trail

by H. A. Cody

"I suppose he is, but we are all anxious about him. I thought maybe you'd seen him. You just came up the road, didn't you? Down to the city, I suppose?"

"No," John curtly replied, as he started the car and drove on, leaving
Mrs. Tobin standing gazing after him.

"She didn't get anything out of me this time," John muttered. "She'll be more curious now than ever to know where mother and Jess are."

For a couple of hours John worked hard around the place. He then went into the house for a lunch, which he ate in the kitchen. His thoughts, however, were back in the hills, to the little cabin in the woods. He pictured to himself the whole scene, and he longed to be there.

At times during the morning he had paused at his work and looked toward the lake. Although he could not see the girl of his heart's desire, it gave him some comfort to turn in her direction and gaze upon the hills which surrounded her. He did this again when he came out of the house after his hasty meal. But no sooner had he looked, than he uttered an exclamation of dismay. The woods in the distance were on fire! Great clouds of smoke were rolling across the land, and at times blotting the hills entirely from view. The fire was off to the right, and perhaps a mile or more away. But he well knew that between it and Island Lake was a large stretch of blueberry plains. When the fire reached this, it would travel rapidly, devouring everything in its way. Then it would sweep through a thicket of fir and spruce trees on the shore of the lake, and the flames would be sure to leap to the island, which here was but a short distance across. And Jess and his mother were there! They could not escape, for they had no boat. And if they did, where could they go for safety? The fire would reach them no matter where they went, for from all appearance it was making a wide sweep in its onward rush.

"Confound Sam Lemon for starting that fire!" he growled. "I feel sure he did it, for he told me the other day that he was going to burn that fallow of his. I warned him to be careful, but he only laughed. I wish I had hold of him now, the scamp!"

John, however, knew that such lamentations would be of no use. Something must be done and at once if the women on the island were to be rescued. Just what he could do he was not sure. Anyway, if he were with them something might be done. He could not leave them there without an effort to save them. He was greatly excited now, so hurrying to his car, he sprang on board and started down the road. He drove faster than usual, and in a short time reached the Rebel Trail, by which he had come that very morning. Under ordinary circumstances he would have driven slowly and carefully over the rough way, for there were gullies formed by the rain, and rocks around which it was necessary to steer most cautiously. But John was so anxious and excited that he threw caution to the wind and sent forward the car at a break-neck speed. For a time all went well until he reached a small bridge, formed of poles, which had become very rotten. The inevitable happened, for no sooner had the car touched the bridge than the right wheel crashed through, and in an instant the car was tightly jammed, the sudden impact hurling John against the wind-shield, which broke beneath his weight.

Recovering himself as quickly as possible, he examined the car, and found the wheel so firmly wedged among a mass of rotten sticks, earth, and rocks that it could not be removed without assistance. And, anyway, he did not have time, for every minute was precious with the fire sweeping steadily onward. The only thing now left was to walk the rest of the way. By the road this would mean over two miles, but across country, through the woods, and along the edge of the blueberry plains it was about one mile shorter. He knew this route well, as he had travelled it often before he bought the car. He did not relish the idea of the walk on such a hot day, especially as he would be forced to hurry as fast as possible if he would win out against the fire.

Leaving the road, he plunged into a growth of young fir trees, made his way through these, and at length reached a valley where the trees were larger, and the underbrush was not so thick. This would lead him to the level beyond where he could obtain a view of the fire, and learn the real nature of the danger. The heat here was intense, for not a breath of wind fanned his hot forehead. But steadily and rapidly he sped forward, and to his great relief reached, at length, the edge of the woods. Here he stopped and viewed the situation. Below him on his right was a stretch of country, covered with blueberry bushes, small fir, pine and spruce trees. It was a desolate region, and the hot sun had parched the shallow soil which covered the rocks beneath. In places these rocks protruded above the ground, and presented either flat surfaces or large cairn-like heaps.

The instant John emerged from the forest he looked anxiously away to the right, and the sight he beheld filled him with fear and awe. The forest was a seething mass of flames, and great volumes of smoke were rolling up into the air. The roar of the fire, and the crashing of trees could be heard for some distance, growing louder each minute. The monster was speedily approaching, laying waste all before it. In another half hour or so it would be through the heavy timber and out upon the plains where everything would be quickly blasted beneath its fiery breath. Even now the wind, caused by the fire, was sending forth flaming branches, and wherever these fell they began to burn most fiercely.