"I know now," he said. "The forest is on fire. I was fighting it and you went to call help. Did you get Willie? And how did you find me? I guess I got too much smoke. I started for the brook. That's all I can remember. I'm all right now. We're going back."
He got to his feet, but at first had to be supported. Charley made him lie down again. In a few minutes his strength seemed to return to him. He got up.
"I'm all right now, Charley," he insisted. "I mightn't be awake yet if you hadn't thrown that water on my face. Thanks, old man."
Charley did not tell Lew how near to death he had been. Instead, he said, "Are you sure you're strong enough to tackle that fire again?"
"Sure as shooting," nodded Lew.
"Then come on. The fire has an awful start on us. The forester wants us to try to hold the header by back-firing."
As they started toward the blaze Lew said, "We'll have to work some distance in advance of it. If only we had rakes we might conquer it even yet."
They made their way to a point well in front of the header. Then they cut sticks and made little bundles of them to use like rakes.
"I'll clear away the leaves and you start the fire," directed Charley.
He began raking away the leaves, clearing a sort of path about two feet wide straight across the line of the advancing header. Lew lighted the leaves on the side of the cleared space toward the header, following close upon Charley's heels. From time to time he ran back along the cleared space to make sure the flames had not jumped across it. Wherever they had, he beat them out with his brush. On the other side of the cleared space the flames slowly worked their way toward the onrushing header, widening with every minute the barren area where the flames could find no fuel to feed upon.