SEARCH
0-9 A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z
Prev | Current Page 188 | Next

Grey, Zane, 1872-1939

"The Young Forester"

Then it grew clearer
again' filled out, and swelled. Bud wanted to sheer off to the left. Herky
swore we were being surrounded. Bill turned a deaf ear to them. From my own
sense of direction I fancied we were going wrong, but Bill was so cool he
gave me courage. Soon a blue, windy haze, shrouding the giant pines ahead,
caused Bill to change his course.
"Do you know whar you're headin'?" yelled Herky, high above the roar.
"I hain't got the least idee, Herky," shouted Bill, as cool as could be,
"but I guess somewhar whar it'll be hot!"
We were lost in the forest and almost surrounded by fire, if the roar was
anything to tell by. We galloped on, always governed by the roar, always
avoiding the slope up the mountain. If we once started up that with the
fire in our rear we were doomed. Perhaps there were times when the wind
deceived us. It was hard to tell. Anyway, we kept on, growing more
bewildered. Bud looked like a dead man already and reeled in his saddle.
The horses were getting hard to manage, and the wind was strengthening and
puffed at us from all quarters. Bill still looked cool, but the last
vestige of color had faded from his face. These things boded ill. Herky
had grown strangely silent, which fact was the worst of all for me. For that
tough, scarred, reckless little wretch to hold his tongue was the last
straw.


Pages:
176 177 178 179 180 181 182 183 184 185 186 187 188 189 190 191 192 193 194 195 196 197 198 199 200