The sharp and cool Frenchman had opened his umbrella, and was holding it above his head to keep the sparks off.
The guide gave a roar of laughter, in which he was joined by the other two, and which was echoed by the subject.
Then, as they had reached the spot where the grass was high, the four men suddenly checked their wild career, and sprung to the ground.
The Frenchman had shut down his umbrella, and being in the mind of the hunter the person most suited to hold the horses, the latter were given in his care. The other three began to pull up the dry grass, and to pile it up as rapidly as wthey could.
It was a matter of life and death with them, and the way they worked was a caution, their arms flew about as if by magic, and the heap of grass grew higher and higher.
The Frenchman had his hands full in keeping the bridles of his horses in his hands, for the animals, frightened at the nearness of the immense sea of fire, and at the falling sparks, were very wild and strove to break away, but the naturalist was stronger than one would take him to be, and he managed to hold onto them, although several times he was very nearly dragged from his feet.
It was a singularly wild and picturesque scene. The smoke obscured the light of the sun, and the flames lit up the prairie with a reddish sort of light, which made all objects have a curious look about them. There, pictured in the light, was a little man, holding four horses by the bridles, and striving to keep them quiet.
Close beside him were three others, plucking up the grass and pitching it upon the already large pile.
No wonder they did not stop an instant to note the near approach of the fire. They were working for life, and had not a second to lose.
It was getting fearfully hot, and they could stand it no longer.