The flames crept along until they came to a large tuft of grass, as dry as tinder. There was a sudden flare and the grass was gone; but the topmost tongue licked a bramble bush, and in an instant it was in a blaze. At night a fire puts on a certain majesty with which to cloak its terrors; but by day it has nothing to redeem its native fierceness. The brushwood was parched with the drought and the flames roared up the dry stems.
Did some kind angel stoop and whisper a word of warning to Zoe? She suddenly turned and ran to the 'Jungle,' which was not very far away. The kittens were hungry and begged a meal, but she disregarded them, and, picking up the youngest, set off at a steady pace across Knockdane. The woods were quite silent but for the song of the birds. Close to the nursery an old blackbird was feeding a brood of fledglings, and a hedgehog nosed along the path. Above the tree tops a faint smoke rose, quivering in the sunshine.
Zoe trotted away with her head up, carrying the kitten very carefully lest her teeth should lacerate its tender skin. She crossed Knockdane and sought the open country, for she mistrusted every tree and thicket since she knew what she had left in the woods behind. She found an empty rabbit hole, laid the kitten inside, and cantered back to Knockdane; but it was more than half a mile away, and by the time she reached it, little white ashes were floating over the 'Jungle' like snowflakes, and the fire was singing merrily to itself. Nevertheless a wide path separated it from where the kittens lay, and so far the danger did not seem so very pressing.
Zoe picked up a second youngster and carried it off. As she set her face towards Knockdane for the second time she saw that a thick smoke was rolling up and reddening the sun. The country lay still in the heat haze. As yet no one seemed to have noticed anything unusual on the hill, for the valley was sparsely populated, and most people were enjoying a siesta. When Zoe reached the 'Jungle' she saw a frightened rabbit scudding away. The fire was raging in the saplings near and licking away the brushwood with a fierce hiss. A charred space, littered with red embers, lay in a circle of fire which was encroaching ever further and further into the wood. The laurels crackled as the heat changed them to molten gold and ruby before dropping them into the flames. There was no time to be lost. Already blazing fragments were dropping from the tree into the dead grass at the edge of the 'Jungle,' and the brushwood burned like tinder when kindled.
Zoe took up her third kitten, and this time she ran faster than before. The old blackbird was croaking to her brood, beseeching them to use their wings to escape, but they only gaped foolishly for more worms. The hedgehog was waddling through the grass as fast as his short legs would permit. Zoe easily overtook and passed him, but the kittens were heavy and the day very hot. The sun came through the leaves, and cast chequered patterns on the path. The woods were very still, but for the rush and crackle of the fire.
For the third time Zoe toiled back up the hill. The air seemed hotter and heavier than ever, and smoke hung among the trees. Suddenly she came upon the vanguard of the fire. It had leaped the path and was creeping into the 'Jungle' with a roar. Alder, fir branch, and briar in turn flared up and fell before it, and the yellow flames streamed skywards, dissolving into sparks and smoke. Behind lay utter desolation. The charred tree-trunks stood up among the surrounding blackness, and the leaves which the fire could not reach hung blistered from their twigs. The fire was not two hundred yards away from the fir tree. It was to be a race—Zoe against the flames; but the former had a mile to travel, and a kitten to carry into the bargain.
Her eyes smarted from the smoke and she was dizzy with fatigue, but she gallantly took up her fourth baby, and ran for its life. She caught a glimpse of some men hastening up the hill, but did not heed them. She laid her kitten with the rest of the litter, and made the best of her way back to Knockdane.
The 'Jungle' was crowned with flames. Everything was thickly peppered with ashes and the sun shone luridly through the smoke. For a moment Zoe was utterly at a loss—then she limped up the accustomed path towards the fir tree. Once or twice she trod on a burning cinder, and the heat made her whiskers shrivel; but she kept on bravely for the sake of the baby in the pine-tree nursery.
She darted to the nest. There was just half a minute to spare before the fire would sweep up to the tree. The earth was burning hot, and already the ivy leaves were blistering. She plunged into the hole and groped desperately for her treasure. The moments flew by—she could not find it. Her eyes were accustomed to see in the gloom, but this darkness was impenetrable. Ah! at last she touched the mewing kitten, and gripping it turned to fly. Outside she shrank back, for she was met by a veritable wall of flame. The fir tree was surrounded by fire, for the grass was blazing, and the bushes were kindling in every direction. There was only one place through which escape could be made—where the burning zone was narrowest. Zoe gripped the kitten tighter, laid back her ears, closed her eyes, and leaped. For one fierce moment the fire actually licked her body, and then she dropped safely on the ashes beyond. Her whiskers were gone, her beautiful ruffle had shrivelled away, her coat was black with ashes; but the kitten for whom she had dared so much was safe. She crawled wearily away, dragging it after her, while the fire leaped and danced round the old fir tree.