“What’s up?” Sandy asked.
“Landers wants to give it one more try. We’re going to build a line down at the end of the ridge.” He walked a little way up the slope and studied the head of the fire driving steadily forward before the wind.
“We’ve only got a little more than a half-mile leeway. We’re gonna have to work fast. Need every man and machine we can spare. C’mon, boys, you’re graduating to pick-and-shovel work as of now.”
The north end of the ridge terminated in a steep slide of gravel and slag. The proposed fire line was to extend due west from this rockpile for at least half a mile. As Macauley pointed out, everything was against the fire fighters. The terrain was unsuited to efficient operation of the dozers and graders; the timber was old and sturdy; and in places the trees were jammed together so tightly and their foliage so interlaced that trunks on opposite sides of the line appeared to have common crowns.
“With this wind,” the gang boss predicted, “our backfires won’t accomplish a thing. Most likely, they’ll jump the line themselves.” He sighed. “But orders is orders.”
Because of the time element, the heavy machinery just punched helter-skelter through the woods, and left the cleaning-up to the pick-and-shovel crews. Behind them came the water wagons, wetting down the brush and trees on the safe side of the line.
Quiz Taylor and Sandy Steele were assigned to a crew of ax men. Jerry James, who had come along about a half hour later, landed a soft job manning a hose. But when the overly plump Quiz collapsed at the side of the trail, Jerry generously offered to swap jobs with him.
“Not permanently, you understand, old boy,” he warned Quiz. “Just until you get your wind back.”
Within a half hour, Sandy’s hands were covered with blisters and his clothes were plastered to his body. Sweat poured down his face, blinding him and caking into mud as it mixed with the dust. His legs felt as if they were made of cast-iron, and he could barely lift one foot after the other.
Enviously, he watched Quiz riding on the back of the water truck. The sight of the fine jet spray gave him a sudden inspiration.