“We’ve got to!” he returned grimly. “It’s three miles, if it’s an inch, but Cherry has got to make it.”
They were relieved after a minute or two in this new road. The smoke had not so completely filled it. But it was a rougher way, and the buckboard bounced until Carolyn May cried out in fear and the mongrel whined and sprawled all over the rear platform.
“You want to hang on, dog, with teeth and toenails,” said Joseph Stagg grimly. “We can’t stop for you if you fall off.”
Prince seemed to know that, for never did animal cling more faithfully to an uneasy situation. Once or twice he came near to being pitched clear of the wagon body.
They drove over a little hillock that raised them higher than the tote road had done. Amanda clutched Mr. Stagg’s arm again and uttered a half-stifled “Oh!”
He shot a glance to the left. A mass of flame broke out in the wood not far off this trail—the top of a great tree was on fire.
“The wind is carrying brands this way,” muttered the man. “A dozen new fires will be started. Well, gid-ap, Cherry!” and he seized the whip again.
The horse was well spent now, but he was plucky. He tried to increase his stride. A hot breath of wind came rushing through the forest, bending the branches and shaking the leafy foliage. The wind seemed fairly to scorch the fugitives.
Carolyn May had hidden her face on Miss Amanda’s shoulder and was sobbing quietly. Both of her human companions were painfully aware that breathing the smoke-filled air was hurting them.
Mr. Stagg hurried the labouring horse on as rapidly as he dared. Cherry coughed every few steps; the man did not want to bring the horse to his knees. Their very lives depended on the animal.