"The boy, he looks mighty anxiouslike at them big high walls of flames a-comin' down toward 'em, an' fairly forced Brown to git on his back 'pick-a-back' like you'd take a little kid, an' started slowly up the trail.
"Foot by foot he climbed to'rd the top. Sometimes the smoke got so thick they had to lie down a minute clost to the ground to git their breath, sometimes the wind dropped big blazin' brands onto 'em an' set their clothes afire, an' he'd have to stop an' rub it out with his hands.
"Every time he took a look up to'rds the top, he'd see the fire a-comin' closter an' closter to the trail. Pore Brown he tried to help him some by walkin', but between the excitement an' the smoke gittin' into his lungs, it were too much for him, an' he dropped down helpless as a newborn baby.
"The kid, he takes a survey of things an', little as he knowed 'bout fires in the chapparal, he seen mighty plain, that they were at the critical pint, an' if they didn't git past the next hundred feet mighty soon, the fire would cut 'em off, an' it would be good-bye gay world to 'em both.
"Then he hears a moan from Brown an', lookin' round, sees him lyin' flat on the ground with one hand clapped over his mouth, an' tricklin' between his fingers was a stream of blood. Didn't take him but a second to know it were a hemorrhage; beats all what them fellers do learn at them colleges, don't it?
"Brown were a-workin' away with one hand at the little pocket in his shirt an', in his eagerness an' excitement, the button wouldn't come open. The boy jumped to his side, tore the button loose, an' pulled from the pocket a little tobacco sack with something in it. Brown he holds out one hand palm up, an' nodded to the boy to open the sack, which he did, an' then poured out into his hand a little pile of common table salt. You know them lunger-fellers most of 'em carries a little sack of salt agin' jist such emergencies. Brown he throwed his head back an' swallowed every grain of it an', bimeby, the blood stopped running so hard. He struggled to his feet, then waved his hand to'rd the top an', with a beseechin' look in his eyes, tried to git the kid to savvy that he was to go on an' leave him to die.
"But the boy he wa'n't made of that sort of stuff. He's jist about skeered to death at the sight of the blood, but he pulls hisself together, grabs Brown in his arms agin, an' grits his teeth for another fight for their lives.
"Finally, he comes to a place where, about ten feet ahead, the fire was clean acrost the trail. He puts Brown down for a minute, pulls off his coat, lays it on the ground, an' pours over it what water was left in his water bag. Then he wraps Brown's head an' shoulders in the coat an', grabbing him up in his arms, agin makes a last dash through the smoke an' fire.
"Seems like he hears a woman's voice above the roar of the fire an' he sort of wonders is he gittin' a little loco with it all. Next he knows he's a-drawin' in big gulps of air that ain't full of smoke, an' there's a woman a-walkin' longside of him, steadyin' him as he staggers under his load an' a-rubbin' out, with a wet gunny sack, the places where his an' Brown's clothes are a-smokin'.
"It all appears as a horrible dream to him, an' fust thing he knows, he don't know nothin', for he's gone an' keeled over in a dead faint. Don't laugh, you fool; didn't you ever work at a fire till it seemed as if your lungs was a-goin' to bust an' your heart was a-beatin' like a cock patridge on a log?