“I’m sure the worst is over,” his uncle assured him. “I think I’ll grab some rest myself after I discuss a few things with the chief.” He pushed himself to his feet and waved to them. “See you later.”
Prince trotted off faithfully behind him.
The boys came upon the stream in a shallow gully about a hundred yards behind the camp. Like all of the streams they had seen in the drought-racked forest, it had shrunk to a mere inch of water gurgling over a pebbly bed. But by scooping out a basin where the flow was heaviest, they were able to take a sponge bath. Clean and refreshed, they stretched out under the small pines along the bank and fell asleep at once.
“Wake up!” The urgent cry penetrated Sandy’s consciousness as a rough hand shook him out of a deep slumber. He opened his eyes and stared up into the harried face of his uncle.
“The fire,” Russ Steele said tersely. “It’s broken out again. You’ll probably be needed. Come up to headquarters right away.” With that, he turned abruptly and trotted up the slope.
His mind still foggy from sleep, Sandy woke Jerry and Quiz. And for several minutes the three boys stared blankly at each other.
“How did it happen?” Jerry mumbled.
Sandy was vaguely aware of the wind whistling through the pines. “Sounds like it’s blowing up again—I guess that’s it. Well, let’s get going.”
“What time is it?” Quiz asked.
Sandy looked at his watch. “A little after one o’clock.”