In the glade were four horses, standing bunched with heads
and ears up, uneasy, and beginning to be frightened. Perhaps the sight of
them helped me to stop Target; at any rate, he slackened his pace and
halted. He was spotted with foam, dripping wet, and his broad sides heaved.
I jumped off, stiff and cramped. I could scarcely walk. The air was clear,
though the fog of smoke overspread the sun. The wind blew strong with a
scent of pitch. Now that I was not riding, the roar of the fire sounded
close. I caught the same strange growl, the note of on-sweeping fury. Again
the creepy cold went over me. I felt my face blanch, and the skin tighten
over my cheeks. I dashed into the cabin, crying: "Fire! Fire! Fire!"
"Whoop! It's the kid!" yelled Herky-Jerky.
He was lying near the door, red as a brick in the face, and panting hard.
In one cut I severed the rope on his feet; in another, that round his raw
and bloody wrists. Herky had torn his flesh trying to release his hands.
"Kid, how'd you git back hyar?" he questioned, with his sharp little eyes
glinting on me. "Did the fire chase you? Whar's Leslie?"
"Buell fired the slash. Penetier is burning. Dick and Hiram sent me back to
the pool below, and then didn't come. They got caught--oh! . . . I'm
afraid--lost! . . . Then I remembered you fellows.
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