Fire in the Woods / Illustrated

by James De Mille

At length the evening drew on, and all of them were nearly worn out. It had been a long and a difficult march. They had exerted themselves severely all that day. Besides, it was not a time that was favorable to severe exertion, for the warmth of the atmosphere affected them all. As the evening approached the warmth increased, for the slight breeze that had been prevailing all the day, and mitigating the sultriness of the weather, now died out, and at once that same oppressiveness of which they had been aware on the preceding day made itself manifest again. Exertion became more and more painful. Their progress became more and more laborious, and they walked with ever-increasing difficulty. At length Bart stopped.

“I won’t go any farther,” said he. “This isn’t much of a place to pass the night in, but I’ve been on the lookout for the last hour, and this is as good as any that I’ve seen. We can’t do any more to-day. So I move that we stop here and rest, and settle down for the night.”

To this the others agreed; and so, flinging down their baskets, they began to make preparations for the night. The preparations were simple enough, consisting in nothing more than a collection of moss and fern leaves, which abounded all around, and of which they soon heaped up a quantity sufficient for their wants. After this they sat down and partook of an evening repast from their rapidly diminishing stock of sandwiches.

“By the powers,” said Pat, “if we’re in the wuds much longer, we’ll have to git howld of a stock of frish provisions, so we will.”

That night they all slept soundly, for they were worn out by their long sleeplessness and by the fatigues of their weary march. In that march they must have traversed many miles, for they had been walking from very early morning till dusk, with only one intermission. Their sleep, therefore, was deep and heavy, and it lasted until comparatively late in the following day.

On awaking they found the air oppressively close and sultry. The smoke clouds were nearer, and appeared to touch the tree-tops. There was also an unpleasant smell of smoke which irritated their nostrils and dried up their throats. One thing only was evident from this, and that was, that the woods were on fire. It also seemed equally evident that they were approaching the scene of conflagration. It was already very oppressive, and how much longer they would be able to maintain their journey was a matter of doubt. Yet there was no desire to give up. The one thought present to all of them was, that Phil was lost; and the rolling smoke clouds now suggested to their minds a danger impending over him of which they had not thought before. Thus far Bart had been more or less subject to fears about the Indian’s being concerned with Phil’s disappearance; but now, as these natural terrors were revealed, his thoughts of the Indian gave place to others of the most painful and harassing character. For if Phil was really lost, it amounted to this—that he was wandering about in a burning forest, far from all hope of human aid. They themselves had suffered, and were suffering, enough to know well what his state must be. The lively imagination of Bart portrayed before his mind in vivid colors the situation of poor Phil, all alone, wandering helpless and despairing, surrounded by smoke and flames, oppressed by the heat, and sinking under the weight of his anxiety and fatigue. His little store of provisions must soon fail—he would not dare to stop to try to catch fish; he would hurry on as long as strength lasted, seeking to escape from the advancing fires. At last all strength and all hope would fail, and a terrific fate would seize upon him.

The others had something of the same feelings about Phil, although less vividly, and were ready to keep up the search after him as long as they could move. So they snatched a hasty breakfast, and at once prepared for the day’s march. That breakfast exhausted the last of their stock of provisions, and they could only hope to reach some brook where they might catch a few fish. At that moment, however, their thoughts about themselves were disregarded in their anxieties about Phil; and so they set out full of eager desire to find him before it might be too late.

Thus far they had continued to shout at certain intervals, and the last thing on the preceding night, and the first thing on this morning, had been a series of loud calls. But the calls had never been answered, and Phil seemed still to be as far away from them as when they first set out. Still it was the only thing that they could do; and so, as they went forward on this day, they kept up, as before, their practice of calling at certain intervals of time.

They wandered on for hour after hour. The air continued close and sultry, and the smoke was most unpleasantly perceptible; but this, instead of deterring them, only nerved them to fresh efforts, since it never ceased to suggest to them the thought of poor Phil’s terrible situation. One thing consoled them; and that was, the discovery that the sultriness and the smoke had grown no worse since they started, but if anything had rather lessened. This they were glad of on Phil’s account; as for themselves, however, it was certainly bad enough, and as the hours passed, their efforts became more and more difficult, and their labors more overpowering.

At last the woods in front of them grew thinner, and through the trees they were able to see more and more of the sky. To emerge from the thick woods into any open place whatever was a pleasant thought to all of them. They wondered what it could be. Solomon thought that it was some barren district bare of trees, and overgrown with low brush, such as sometimes occurs in the forest. Pat thought it was a lake, or a river, or a swamp, or something of that sort. Bart expected to find a clearing in the woods, and his heart beat last with joy at the idea of finding some human being who could tell them where they where. With these various thoughts and feelings they hurried forward.