Yes, already he felt sure that the loud roaring was growing sensibly less. The wave of fire had passed on, snatching up new supplies of dry fuel as it rushed along its way on the teeth of the wind.
More than once his thoughts had gone out to Sandy.
"Oh! I hope he stayed where I put him, and that all is well," he kept repeating to himself, as he sweltered in his hot oven.
Surely it ought to be getting much more comfortable by now; and yet Bob could not positively say that he felt any cooling influence.
Perhaps he would be wise to climb upward toward the exit, ready to thrust his head out, and see how the land lay. No sooner had this idea flashed upon him than he started to carry it out, only to make a very unpleasant discovery.
He groped around him, seeking to find some projection that would give a grip or a foothold, but only to meet with grievous disappointment.
"Why, what shall I do?" he cried aloud, in his sudden chagrin. "The inside of this old tree is as smooth as an otter slide! And I have no claws, like the bear, to help me climb up!"
He tried pushing his back against one side of the hollow, while with his knees and hands he pressed against the opposite wall. It was a favorite trick which Bob had carried out successfully on more than one occasion. Somehow it did not seem to work now.
Whether in his excitement he failed to take advantage of every little gain, or because the bear in his frequent passage up and down had polished the chute so that it was impossible for the boy to hold on, was a question Bob never found himself fully qualified to answer.
All he knew was that three times he managed to get up a little distance, only to suddenly slide down again and land in a heap at the bottom.