"Not yet," answered the driver. "Though the smoke, does seem to be getting a bit thinner ahead there, on the left."
But it was a false hope, and going on a little farther it was seen that the two fires had joined about a mile ahead, completely cutting off an advance in that direction.
It was as though our friends were in an ever narrowing circle of flame. There was a fire behind them, in front of them and to one side. There only remained the one other side.
Would there be an opening in the circle—an opening by which they could escape?
"Ve must go to der right," cried Mr. Switzer.
"Und I vill drive, Paul. I haf driven in der German army yet, und I know how."
They were now tearing along in a lane bordered with fire on either side, with raging flames behind them. Their only hope lay in front.
"Well, these films may never be developed," observed Russ, grimly, as took his camera off the tripod, "but I'm going to get a picture of this prairie fire. It's the best chance I've ever had—and it may be my last. But I'm not going to miss it!"
And so, as the wagon careened along between the two lines of fire, Russ took picture after picture, holding the camera on his knees.
On and on the frantic horses were driven, until finally Paul, who was on the seat beside Mr. Switzer, with Russ between them taking pictures, called out: