Then the fire came over the ridge, which formed the lip of the cup-like depression. Sam had realized that this soon must happen, and that it had not happened earlier was due to some lucky combination of circumstances, including a greater degree of moisture near the pool than on higher ground. Now, though, a fierce gust caught the flames and swept them along. Little trails of yellow gleamed on the trunk of the tree nearest him, as the bark caught and blazed up. A heap of woodsy debris burst into flame. The heat grew intense. Hagle, in new panic, let go of the brush and clutched wildly at Sam. There was a second in which the branch, bending under its double burden, threatened to break; but, though it creaked dismally, there was no sharp crack of fracture which Sam dreaded to hear. And then, like a most timely reënforcement to a sorely pressed army, came the Shark, panting from his run, half blinded by sweat and smoke, but with his brain in perfect working order.
What the Shark did was simple, but it was done quickly. He picked the best footing that was to be had—it was none too sure footing, at that. He tore off his jacket, tossed an end of the garment within Hagle’s reach.
“Hi there! Let—let Sam alone and hitch on to this!” he shouted, briskly, if brokenly.
Once more Hagle obeyed. He caught the coat and clung to it as a drowning man might cling to a rope. The Shark braced himself as well as he could, and pulled. Sam gave an extra tug at Hagle’s collar. Their combined efforts began to count. Jack succeeded in freeing one leg from the mire, and in keeping it free. Then slowly but surely he managed to draw the other from its imprisonment. The Shark threw every ounce he had into a final magnificent pull. Sam at precisely the right instant relaxed his grip on Jack, who half fell, half was dragged toward the Shark, went down at full length, floundered frantically—and crawled and sprawled to firmer ground. The Shark helped him to his feet, and Sam, who had swung himself down from his bough, got an arm about him.
There still remained an open path for escape from the fire, though it was clear that this way would soon be closed; for the flames were flanking the hollow much as they had surrounded the camp. There was no need to urge going while the going was good. Jack did not dare to look back, but Sam and the Shark, when they mounted the slope, paused to survey swiftly the magnificent, if terrifying, spectacle. Far to left and right ran the surf-like blaze, rising and falling in long billows, breaking as combers break, with showers of fiery spray driving before the strong wind. Involuntarily Sam caught his breath. The savage splendor of it all laid hold upon him, fascinated him. It was left to the Shark to recall him to the practical aspects of their situation by a speech which, oddly enough, was no more practical than Sam’s stirring fancy.
“Huh! Wonder how many millions are going to waste! Geeminy! but I’d like to figure it out!”
“Millions? Millions of what?” Sam asked in bewilderment.
“Huh! Thermal units, of course!” quoth the Shark.
“Ther—ther——?” Sam began; checked himself; laughed explosively; wheeled and began to lead Jack down the pitch on the farther side of the rise.
The Shark followed. He made no effort to resume the discussion, and seemed to be content to hurry after his companions.