Sam wasted no time, once he had warning of the reappearance of the peril. He sprang back into the tent to rouse his mates; but, even as he did so, he was making swift calculation of the hour. The position of the moon gave him his best hint. Midnight had passed; of that he was quite sure.
“Up, everybody!” he shouted. “Turn out! Fire, fire, fire! Hustle! Get a move on! The fire’s started again, and this time it’ll travel this way! Up with you, everybody!”
There was varied response to the summons. Herman Boyd, a light sleeper, seemed to reach awakening and understanding together; for he was out of bed and on his feet in a second. Tom Orkney sat up and yawned cavernously. The Shark’s voice rose sharply:
“Confound it all! What’s the row about?”
“Row enough!” cried Sam. “Woods afire again!”
“Umph!” growled the Shark; but he reached for his spectacles and having put them on, began to wriggle into his trousers most expeditiously.
The Trojan and Step tried to rise at once, and collided. Both went down, Step falling across the still recumbent Poke, who groaned abysmally, and struck out wildly in the dark. Whereat Step, in self-protection, grappled with his plump friend, and the pair rolled from bunk to ground, adding immensely to the confusion in the narrow space.
For two or three minutes pandemonium reigned. Then Sam, using voice and arm vigorously, succeeded in restoring order, of a sort.
“Hurry, hurry!” he urged; and the exhortation was not wasted. The boys scrambled into their clothes; they dragged on shoes, without much heed to ownership of the articles. Poke and Step, freed from each other’s embrace, made as good time as the rest.
Led by Sam, the club swarmed out of the tent. Once in the open, there was no need for him to declare the danger. Clouds of smoke were driving by them, and beyond the smoke the yellow flicker of flames was visible.