Suddenly she turned and looked up at him. He had stopped and was holding his side. He had a queer expression on his face. He reached out as if to grab something, and then fell at her feet.
“Help! Help!” screamed Janie. “Dor, James, Billy! He’s fainted.”
Dor came leaping over the burned stubble. Her face was a black smudge, and she had a wild look in her eye.
“Throw water on him,” she cried. “Get him out of here!” Billy and James reached under his shoulders, and Janie and Dor caught hold of the strong leather belt at his waist. They pulled and tugged with all their might. He was awfully heavy. Davey yelled from behind them, “Hey kids, the fire is getting bad again.” There was no choice. They dropped the unconscious man and raced back to the fire.
“Davey!” Billy shouted. “You get out of here! Run to the nearest house and get help, and then run home and get Daddy!”
Davey’s short legs disappeared through the smoke, and Janie’s heart sank. One less to pump and to carry water. The old man lay just where they left him. He seemed dead. There was so much smoke in the air they could hardly see each other, and as the flames raced up the tall weed stalks bits of burning grass would fall on their arms and hands. James was sobbing as he pounded away with the flat side of his shovel. Billy was coughing and gasping.
“One more patch,” Dor called out. “This is the last bad spot! If we can put this one out, the others aren’t so bad. It’s reached the lake on one side, and it’s almost at the road on the other.”
They beat at the fire valiantly, and little by little, it gave way. The roaring and the crackling died down. It had almost burned itself out. The smoke was as bad as ever as they raced back to the old man’s side. He was awake now, but he didn’t seem able to move. They tugged and pulled at him and got him to the door of the shack. Billy looked around for a bed, but there was none. There was a cot in the corner, and they pulled it over close to the door and helped him to lie down. Dor found a towel and wiped his face. He smiled at her. He had a sort of nice face when he smiled. “Thank you, young lady,” he said, and looked at her kindly.
“Don’t talk, Mr. Mott,” said Janie. “Lie still and rest. My daddy is coming, and he’ll get a doctor.”
“Doctor? Rest? Pshaw! I never had a doctor in my life. I don’t need to rest. I’m fine now. Fit as a fiddle. I just swallowed a might too much smoke, I guess. I’m fine now, fine.” He tried to get to his feet, but it didn’t work so well, for he faltered and then settled back on the cot again. “I’m fine,” he insisted.