Dick Fellows smiled gratefully. “That’s wonderful. I’ve got plenty of tools stored out in the shed. With any luck, maybe we can get it under control before it spreads too far.”
At that moment, they heard Prince barking at the foot of the tower and footsteps vibrating on the metal steps. “That must be Quiz and Jerry,” Sandy said. He ran to the door, opened it and called down. “Stay where you are. We’ll be right down. We’re going to fight a fire.”
Within fifteen minutes, the five of them were double-timing it through the woods, loaded down with long-handled shovels, burlap sacks, fire swatters and strange-looking implements that the boys had never seen before. One resembled a giant fly swatter; another, the Pulaski tool, was a combination ax and grub hoe. They had covered, perhaps, ten miles, when Prince, who had gone running far ahead, began to yelp excitedly. Before they even sighted the flames, they could hear the crackle and roar of a formidable blaze.
Dick Fellows ran his tongue nervously over dry lips. “Not much smoke. She had a good start before we spotted her.”
In spite of the ranger’s words, Sandy felt a wave of relief when they finally reached the fire. It didn’t look nearly as bad as he had expected it to be. At most, it ranged over a quarter of an acre, blazing lazily in the surface litter that covered the forest floor.
“Gee, it’s just a little brush fire.” Jerry echoed his friend’s sentiments.
“So far,” the ranger said grimly. “But all it will take is a little breeze—” He left the thought unfinished, as without warning a dead tree that stood in the center of the fire, blackened and smoldering, burst into flame like a torch. The rotten wood gave off great flaming sparks that were carried high into the air by the updraft. Sandy traced the journey of one glowing ember as it plummeted down like a shooting star into the woods about a half mile away.
“That could mean more trouble,” the ranger said. “Before you know it, you have a half dozen spot fires burning in addition to the one you’re fighting. I’ll have a look over in that direction later on. The first thing we’re going to do is to build a fire line across the head of the fire; I’d say maybe fifteen feet in front of it.”
Quiz nodded. “The head of the fire is determined by the direction in which it’s spreading the fastest. Right?”
“Right. All fires have a roughly circular shape to begin with. But depending on air currents, slope of the terrain and available fuel, they soon take on direction. Usually they assume an elliptical shape, sort of like an egg, with the fat part of the egg representing the head. We always attack the head first—stop the advance. Then we can work down the flanks to the rear.