"How much ground do you suppose this fire has swept, Jim?" I asked.
"It's hard telling," he replied, "but it would not surprise me if we would have to travel several days before we get out of the burnt district."
We had now arrived at the top of the mountain, from which the valley sloped down.
"Which way now, Jim?" I asked, stopping a moment for a better view.
For answer he swung his horse north, along the ridge. It was comparatively clear here and quite gravelly and a cool breeze, unstained with smoke, swept over the divide, with refreshing life in it for us. It was the next thing to having a drink.
"How are your lips, Jo?" asked Jim.
"Burnt," I replied.
"It's a whole lot better than having the Apaches catch you," he reasoned. "Then you would have been burnt all over."
"It's some consolation," I said.
"I don't believe we could have escaped," said Jim, "if the fire had not helped us. The only thing we could have done was to have tried to make our escape at night."