Curt turned instantly and watched the rushing flames. The roar was so loud now that it was impossible to communicate with one another except by shouting and Curt ran from one to another, shouting and pounding them down under the bank where they would get the utmost protection.
Reaching out he jerked Janet and Helen sharply and jostled them under the bank.
“Get under there and stay under. Put a wet cloth to your nose and mouth. Don’t breath any more than you have to.”
Neither one of them possessed handkerchiefs, for these articles had gone astray long before. One sleeve of Janet’s dress had been ripped and she tore the whole thing out, ripped it again, and gave Helen one half of it. They dipped the cloth in the creek, squeezed a little of the water out, and applied the makeshift mask to their faces.
Burning brands, carried along by the wind, were dropping in the creek now, hissing and sputtering as they struck the water where they soon became blackened embers.
Janet, turning toward the opposite bank, saw a clump of underbrush burst into flame. The fire, whipped by the rising wind, spread out rapidly. Venturing a peep above the creek bank, a searing blast of heat struck her forehead and she could feel her hair curl. One glance was enough, for a towering wall of flame seemed to be rising straight into the sky.
Janet ducked back under the protection of the bank and dipped the cloth into the water again. She straightened up again and glanced toward the bus. The cameraman who had been grinding away steadily had deserted the bus and was dragging his camera with him. He reached the shelter of the bank and other willing hands helped him set up the machine in a position that was well protected.
It was impossible to hear now and Janet felt Helen crowding close toward her. They looked at each other through staring eyes—eyes that reflected the inward fear that gripped their hearts. The heat was stifling now. The cloths they had soaked with water were drying with incredible rapidity and Janet remembered Curt’s warning to breath as lightly as possible. Helen, shoeless, was standing in the water. A hot ember dropped beside them and struck one of Helen’s legs before it had cooled. She winced at the pain, but there was no escape.
It seemed as though the entire opposite slope of the valley suddenly burst into flame and the intensity of the heat redoubled. Janet held her breath and dipped down into the stream to wet the cloth again. Helen did likewise a moment later and they gained some relief.
Billy Fenstow and Curt Newsom were crouched beside the cameraman who was still grinding away at the red terror.