He rode steadily, however, and by noon had made fairly good progress. He now found himself in a thickly wooded country, and rode mile after mile in a deep shade that was very grateful after some of the blistering hours in the open he had been forced to undergo. There was a brisk breeze blowing, and the leaves rustled pleasantly, allowing slender shafts of sunlight to flicker through them as they swayed and whispered.
Bert drew in great breaths of the fragrant air, redolent of a thousand woody odors, and wished that the whole of his journey lay through such pleasant places. After a while he came to a beautiful little glen through which ran a sparkling brook.
“Just the place to eat lunch,” thought Bert, and quickly brought the “Blue Streak” to a standstill. Dismounting, he unpacked his lunch box, and, sitting down on a broad, flat-topped rock at the edge of the stream, ate contentedly.
“This place is a regular little Garden of Eden,” he mused. “There must be fish in that stream. If I only had a hook and line along, I’ll wager I’d get some sport out of it.” Then another thought struck him. “By Jove!” he exclaimed aloud, “a swim would feel mighty good now, and there must be a place deep enough for one somewhere around here. I’m going on an exploring expedition, anyway.”
Sure enough, around a slight bend in the stream he discovered a pool that almost looked as though it had been made to order. A gigantic tree had fallen across the stream, forming a natural dam. The clear water ran over and under it with a tinkling, splashing sound, and Bert gave a shout of joy.
“Here goes for a glorious swim,” he cried, and, undressing hastily, plunged in. The water was icy cold, and for a moment the shock of it took away his breath and made his heart stand still. But in a few seconds the reaction came, and he splashed around, and even managed to swim a few strokes in the deepest part.
“This is great,” he thought. “I wouldn’t have missed it for worlds. It’s too bad the old ‘Blue Streak’ can’t enjoy it with me.” He smiled as this absurd thought crossed his mind, but little knew how much of prophecy there was in it.
When he felt thoroughly refreshed, he climbed out to the bank, and quickly slipped into his clothes. “I can dry out as I go along,” he thought, with a grin. “Somebody evidently forgot to hang bath towels on these trees. Very careless of them, I think.”
He hurried back to where he had left the motorcycle, and soon was once more purring along the woodland track. He had traveled something less than an hour, when he began to notice a thin blue haze in the air, and at the same time to smell a pungent smoke. His first thought was that he was near some settler’s cabin, but as he rode on he could see no sign of human habitation, and the green forest stretched away on both sides of the road without any break that might denote a trail.
But the smoke kept getting heavier every second, and suddenly the truth smote him like a blow in the face. “A forest fire,” he thought, “a forest fire! and here I am, in the heart of these woods, with absolutely no way of escape, that I can see.” Even as these thoughts flashed through his mind, a rabbit dashed out onto the road, so mad with terror that it almost ran under the wheels of the motorcycle.