She hurried along the top of the ridge, calling as she went. A dim, misty glow filled the cavern of the woods around her. Just ahead drops of fire seemed to be dripping through the forest roof. It failed to catch. It would let her go a little farther, and she pressed on. A fold of the great streamer of smoke was rent away and rolled up the side of the ridge and covered her. She sank upon her knees, nearly smothered, and put her skirt over her face. The cloud passed in a moment. Her sleeve caught fire and she put it out with her hand. She felt her peril more keenly and tried to run. She heard Zeb sniffing and coughing near. Master had let him go, thinking that he might help her in some way. She stooped and called to him and took hold of the dragging rope. The dog pressed on so eagerly that he carried part of her weight. A broken bough in a tree-top just ahead of her had caught fire and swung like a big lantern. She had no sooner passed than she heard the tree burst into flame with a sound like the frying of fat. She felt her hand stinging her and saw that a little flame was running up the side of her skirt. She cried, "Mercy!" and knelt and smothered it with her hands. Gasping for breath, she fell forward, her face upon the ground.
"Silas Strong," she moaned, "you got to come quick or I won't never see you again." The dog heard her and licked her face.
Down among the ferns and mosses she found a stratum of clear air, and in a moment rose and reeled a few steps farther. The flank of the invader had overrun the heights. Her seeking was near its end. Showers of fire were falling beyond and beside her. She lay down and covered her face to protect it from heat and smoke. She rose and staggered on, calling loudly. Then she heard a bark from Zeb and the familiar halloo of Silas Strong.
Through some subtle but sure intuition the two had known what to expect of each other and had clung to the trail. She saw him running out of the smoke-cloud and whipping his arms with his old felt hat. One side of his beard was burned away. He picked her up as if she had been a child and ran down the east side of the ridge with her, leaping over logs and crashing through fallen tops. Beyond the showering sparks he stopped and smothered a circle of creeping fire on her skirt. Sinth lay in his arms moaning and sobbing. He shook her and shouted, almost fiercely, "The leetle f-fawns—wh-where be they?"
"Gone with him on Leonard's Trail," Sinth answered, brokenly.
He entered a swamp in the dim-lighted forest, now running, now striding slowly through fallen timber and up to his knees in the damp earth. Every moment the air was growing clearer. He ran over a hard-wood hill and slackened pace while he made his way half across a wide flat.
When he struck the trail to Benson Falls the fire-glow was fainter. Now and then a great, rushing billow of light swept over them and vanished. He stopped and blew and put Sinth on her feet.
"Hard n-night, sis," said he, tenderly.
She stood and made no answer. In a flare of firelight he saw that she was holding out one of her hands. He struck a match and looked at it and made a rueful cluck. The fire of the match seemed to frighten her; she staggered backward and fell with a cry. He caught her up and strode slowly on. Soon she seemed to recover self-control and lay silent. He was in great pain; he was reeling under his burden, but he kept on. She put up a hand and felt his face.
"Why, Silas," she said, in a frightened voice, "you're crying."