It was another instance of hitting upon an old device—that of setting “back fires”; but Poke was vastly pleased by his discovery. He shouted to his friends, who, to tell the truth, were quite ready to try any new move. To put it in military phrase, they had been fighting a rear-guard action, which had its discouraging aspects because of steady, if slow, retirement; and they rallied with a will to Poke’s assistance. The safety zone widened and lengthened; the “back fired” strips bordering the trench extended almost as far as it did. So much accomplished, the boys paused for a little in their labors. They stationed themselves behind the defenses, whose strength was about to be put to the test.
The fire swept up to the barrier. It seemed to beat upon it as surf beats upon a beach. There was no need of a lively fancy to picture a succession of waves; for with the fluctuations of the wind the flames rose and fell like so many combers; while the hint of spray was carried out by tiny showers of glowing embers, which sailed over the obstruction. To these the boys gave prompt attention, with all the greater zeal because they saw that they were holding back the main fire. Five minutes showed their success in this respect. So far as the ditch ran, the great danger was over; they were able to cope with flying sparks falling behind their line. It remained for the Shark to give timely warning of the limits of their success and of the menace still existing on either hand.
“Look! There!” He was tugging at Sam’s arm with one hand and pointing with the other. “It’s getting ’round us! Whew!”
The Shark was pointing to the left, but what Sam saw there made him glance swiftly to the right as well. In both directions was abundant cause for alarm.
What had happened, and was happening, required little explanation. The boys had devoted themselves to blocking the path leading straight to the camp, and had been forced to neglect the flanks of their defenses. There the fire had an unobstructed way. Already it had lapped the ends of the ditch, and was moving on, edging in upon the sheltered area behind the barrier. In other words, the camp now was threatened from both sides, if not from in front. Older heads might have foreseen the situation, but it is probable that the club, with its available force, had done as much as it could have accomplished with the most experienced leadership. The simple fact was that the fire was too big to be fought and beaten by half a dozen boys or men.
Sam kept his head. He made a hurried calculation.
“Fellows, we’ve got to have help. This thing is getting ’way beyond us. And it’s getting beyond a case of saving the camp. It’s going to be a question of stopping the fire before it works around the end of the lake and reaches the pavilion and the cottages.”
The Trojan voiced the complaint that was in the minds of all of the club: “Confound the folks over there! Why haven’t they turned out and given us a lift? Fire fighting’s everybody’s business.”
“If everybody knows about the fire,” Sam amended.
“Geeminy! How can those people help knowing? The smoke is blowing right in their direction. Then there’s the glare. They can’t all be dead over there!”