Then it became apparent that another object, which had a certain human semblance, lay among the horse's legs, and a faint voice rose from it.
"Hump yourselves, before he rolls over and smashes me all up," it said.
Gallwey was not sure what his comrade did, but he laid hold of what seemed to be the man's arm, and, as the horse rolled a little, succeeded in dragging him clear of it. He let him go and stood looking down on him stupidly.
"Leg's broke!" gasped the man. "The beast fell on me."
"Well," said Leland, drily, "it will save us some trouble. You're not going to walk very far like that, and, when we get the fire under control, we'll see what can be done for you. It's your own fault that you'll have to wait a little."
Then he swung round to Gallwey. "Back to the guard-furrows for your life."
Gallwey fancied that he had never run quite so hard before, but, when he reached the strip of ploughing between stubble and prairie, Leland was already there, shouting breathlessly to the men spread out along it. Not far away a wavy wall of fire was moving down on them out of the prairie, and there were two more some distance to the left, though it would evidently be a little while before the last of them rolled up. Already a thick and acrid vapour whirled among the oats, and, when it melted a little, and a brighter blaze sprang up, he could see the men's tense faces and the curious rigidity of their attitudes.
Then there was a trampling of hoofs, and, turning, he saw Carrie Leland pull her plunging team up in the midst of the smoke. She stood up on the front of the waggon, and a flickering blaze of radiance showed that she was dripping with water. A pile of wet bags lay behind her.
"Throw them out, boys," she said. "There are more of them waiting."
In another moment Leland ran up and seized the near horse's head, as the beast kicked and plunged in the stinging smoke.