Something in Hamilton White’s attitude or in his expression silenced the villagers who had gone into spasms of laughter at Elfreda Briggs’ plight.
“Men, the forest fire is yonder, less than an eighth of a mile away!” he shouted. “It may not be too late to save the village, but I think it is. Get your women and children down to the bank of the creek. Bring water and wet down everything. Work, you thick-heads!” There were murmurs of objection. A puff of hot air was driven through the village, and a few moments later a blue haze settled over it. A great silence fell over the people. It was broken by a woman’s scream.
“Fire!” yelled a man.
“Fire! Fire! Fire!”
The chorus was taken up by a hundred voices, and panic seized upon the inhabitants of Silver Creek.
CHAPTER III
A RAIN OF FIRE
“Wet down the roofs of all the houses. Keep your heads or you’re goners!” shouted Ham White.
The Overlanders had grabbed pails and filled them from the creek, running with them to points where water soon would be needed. Stacy, however, with his usual disinclination to work, took it upon himself to boss the villagers, which he did very well. He appeared to be not at all disturbed by the peril that menaced them.
The sky was now heavily overcast. To add to the gloom, daylight was fading with the prospect of a night of terror for the people of Silver Creek. The air grew hot and the pungent odor of smoke sent many into paroxysms of coughing.
Hamilton White, cool and collected, was giving terse orders here and there, and working with tireless energy. Hot puffs of wind drove through the village streets, and that, he knew, was the vanguard of what was to come.