“What if we did?” queried Rex.
“Well, it’d mean we’d have to fly round,” said Billy, speaking as one might speak of an earthquake, without any real belief that such a thing might happen. “Fight it, if we could: but I don’t s’pose we could do anything to stop it. We’d have to get the cattle out, and get word to Father. It would be rather a lark, if it didn’t do much damage. They’ve never let me go out if there was a fire, an’ I’ve always wanted to.” He broke off, peering through the haze: then he spoke excitedly. “Rex, I’m not sure, but I could nearly swear I saw flames! Did you see anything? Over there in Moncrieff’s.” He pointed to the southeast.
“I don’t see anything but smoke,” said Rex, straining his eyes.
“Neither do I, now, but I’ll swear I saw a flash of flames—high up. Let’s gallop over and see!”
They raced over the dry grass, keeping just outside the timber. The boundary fence loomed up presently out of the haze, and then Billy uttered a cry.
“My word, it is burning, Rex! Look—can’t you see men working at it?”
There were red flashes of fire coming out of the smoke-drift in the next paddock, and, as they looked, a burning tree sent a tongue of flame skyward. Here and there they could make out the forms of men, beating out the fire in the grass. It was difficult to see how much fire there was: but presently a blazing stick fell from the top of a tree, and, caught by a sudden eddy of wind high up, sailed towards them for a moment and then dropped, a blaze springing up the moment it touched the grass. A man on a smart pony came tearing across to it, and beat it out. Then he caught sight of the two little figures at the fence and galloped to them.
“It’s Mr. Moncrieff!” Billy exclaimed.
“Is that you, Billy?” The man peered at them with smoke-reddened eyes. “Is your father about?”
“No; he’s at home, Mr. Moncrieff,” Billy said. “Is the fire very bad?”