The girl was strong and steady of nerve. No cigaret smoking, no fasting to attain a perfect figure had sapped her strength. All this stood her in good stead at this moment. It saved her from possible accident. It could not, however, change the course of the fire. To her further consternation she discovered as, all but exhausted, she threw herself upon the crest, that the fire was on its way up the opposite slope to meet her.
“Oh! Oh-a!” she breathed in dismay. How the fire roared and crackled! Already great waves of heat were wafted up to her.
Turning wearily she began letting herself back down the slope.
“I must not allow myself to grow desperate,” she told herself. “I must not.”
Forcing herself to unusual caution she held her nerves steady and step by step made her way down.
One other way of escape seemed to present itself—a narrow, dry swamp ran between two ridges. It was filled with smoke but there were no flames. It might still be open. Daring to hope, she went hurrying over its brush-entangled bed of leaves and moss. The smoke was stifling and all but blinding. At times she found herself fairly groping her way.
There came a time when it seemed she could no longer breathe. A peculiar brown smoke appeared to rise from the very ground. This, she discovered to her despair, was exactly what it was doing. At this point the ground was on fire. Isle Royale, in the beginning, was a barren rock. All its soil is of vegetable origin. Here in the narrow valley a form of peat lay some three feet thick. Dry as tinder it had ignited. To attempt to pass over it would be to find oneself floundering in masses of burning peat. This was unthinkable. Once again the way was blocked.
Wearily she turned back to retrace her steps to higher ground and clearer air. Scarcely had she reached her starting point when, to her great surprise, she heard her name called. A great wave of joy swept over her as she answered, “Here! Here I am!”
Call answered call until at last Mike and Tony burst into view.
“Oh! It—it’s you,” she faltered.