Still Sandy hesitated. “Suppose Prince is hurt, Jerry?”
“He was here just a minute ago!” Jerry’s voice was frantic. “How could he get hurt?”
“Maybe he stepped into a trap.”
The other boy slapped one hand against the side of his head in exasperation. “Oh, brother! Look, I’m leaving, pal.” He turned and ran about ten paces, then looked back across his shoulder. “Aren’t you coming, Sandy?”
“You go on,” Sandy said stubbornly. “I’m going over to the hill and see what’s happened to Prince.”
“Sandy! Come back!” Jerry pleaded in desperation, as his friend disappeared into the thick brush. He hesitated for just an instant, then ran after him. “Hey, you dope! Wait for me!” he shouted.
Sandy had covered about 200 yards when he stumbled into ankle-deep water. He vaguely recalled one of the fire fighters mentioning that a stream ran around the east side of the hill. He continued on until he felt the ground rise sharply beneath his feet. Then he stopped and called out to the dog.
“Prince! Where are you, boy?”
Ahead of him, to the left, he heard loud barking. He followed the sound and broke out of the trees onto the abandoned fire line. Glancing to the left and right along the ten-foot strip, he saw a solid wall of fire on both sides where the flames had jumped the line. Roughly 1200 feet separated the twin fronts, but as the flames raced through the trees behind the hill, the gap was closing fast.
Sandy started as Prince’s head burst out of a thicket across the path from him. “There you are!” he said with relief. “What are you doing way over here? Come on, we’ve got to get out of the woods fast.”