In all the fire-swept district the scouts saw not one charred body of animals that live in the woods. A coyote lay at the edge of the area, dead from the blow of an animal with sharp claws, but that had happened after the fire. Julie thought the bear probably did it because the horrid little coyote tried to get a bite of fat little cub.
“But see all the poor, poor trees,” sighed Betty.
“Yes, these fires destroy more timber than all other forces put together,” returned Mr. Gilroy. “Because of the resinous matter in pine or spruce, they burn quicker and make a hotter fire than other trees. But fortunately for future forests, the flames never can reach the roots and seedlings buried under ground, so these shortly sprout up and start new timber.
“It is not often that a fire sweeps over the same area again for centuries, unless some fool tenderfoot leaves a campfire burning, or shakes the hot ashes from a pipe.”
They all rode forward as quickly as possible, for night was coming on apace, and every one was anxious to get out of the burnt district before dark. So they pitched camp as soon as they got beyond the fire line.
That night, flares like torches shot up from many of the standing trees on the hillside, and they continued burning for several days after the under fire had passed along. The light from these treetops cast weird shadows upon the camp.
“I never want to see another forest-fire,” declared Joan, as she turned her face away from these flickering glares.
“None of us do, but as long as there was a fire, we are glad to have seen it,” replied Julie.
“And I’m glad it was a little one,” added the Captain.
“You wouldn’t say that was a little fire, would you?” asked several of the scouts.