THE BOY SCOUTS
AS
FOREST FIRE FIGHTERS

BY
SCOUT MASTER ROBERT SHALER

AUTHOR OF “BOY SCOUTS OF THE SIGNAL CORPS,” “BOY SCOUTS OF PIONEER CAMP,” “BOY SCOUTS OF THE GEOLOGICAL SURVEY,” “BOY SCOUTS OF THE LIFE SAVING CREW,” “BOY SCOUTS ON PICKET DUTY,” “BOY SCOUTS OF THE FLYING SQUADRON,” “BOY SCOUTS AND THE PRIZE PENNANT,” “BOY SCOUTS OF THE NAVAL RESERVE,” “BOY SCOUTS IN THE SADDLE,” “BOY SCOUTS FOR CITY IMPROVEMENT,” “BOY SCOUTS IN THE GREAT FLOOD,” “BOY SCOUTS OF THE FIELD HOSPITAL,” “BOY SCOUTS WITH THE RED CROSS,” “BOY SCOUTS AS COUNTY FAIR GUIDES,” ETC.

NEW YORK
HURST & COMPANY
PUBLISHERS

Copyright, 1915,
BY
HURST & COMPANY

CONTENTS

CHAPTER PAGE I. [Oakvale’s One Wise Man] 5 II. [What Presence of Mind Meant] 16 III. [The Threatening Peril] 27 IV. [The Call of Duty] 39 V. [Carried to the Front] 48 VI. [The Burning Forest] 59 VII. [As Busy as Beavers] 73 VIII. [Back-firing] 85 IX. [Peter, the Bound Boy] 96 X. [At the Dry Spring] 105 XI. [Babes In the Woods] 116 XII. [When the Rain Came Down] 130 XIII. [Right-about Face!] 142

The Boy Scouts as Forest Fire Fighters.

CHAPTER I.
OAKVALE’S ONE WISE MAN.

“Don’t believe in it, I tell you! All a humbug! No boy of mine will ever fool away his time strutting around and wearing soldiers’ clothes when he ought to be doing his chores at home! Take that from me, young fellow!”

“But Mr. Prentice, if you care to ask any one of the best citizens of Oakvale——”

“Foolish of them to be so blind, I tell you, boy!”

“There’s Mr. Hayward, the minister, sir!”

“A good man, but an easy mark all the same!”

“And Judge Marshall!”

“Surprised to hear that a long-headed man like the judge should allow his name to be used in connection with such utter foolishness. If he had boys of his own instead of three girls he might see things in a different light.”

“There’s Dr. Kane, and—well, the father of every one of the thirty boys in the troop. In fact, Mr. Prentice, I think you’re almost the only prominent man in or around Oakvale who hasn’t enthusiastically endorsed the local scout troop, which they believe has made good.”

Perhaps this little shaft of flattery told. At any rate the man called Mr. Prentice allowed a glimmer of a grim smile to flit across his stern face as he observed:

“All I can say then, Hugh, is that the prominent men of this section are a short-sighted lot when they allow themselves to be so easily led by the nose, and humbugged by a parcel of prank-loving boys!”

Billy Worth nudged the leader of the Wolf Patrol, Hugh Hardin, in the side. He acted as though it might be on the tip of his tongue to say something saucy; but for fear he might thus injure the cause Hugh was so manfully representing, Billy managed to remain silent.

Hugh made a final appeal, as he saw the man was about to leave them.

“But surely, Mr. Prentice, you must have heard some good things said about the scouts, haven’t you?” he asked, with one of his most persuasive smiles; which, however, in this case, seemed to be wasted on the one-idea man.

“Oh! yes,” carelessly replied the other, gathering up his lines preparatory to starting his horse, “a lot of wonderful stories have come floating over to my house, but I set most of them down as exaggerations. When I was a boy I read the ‘Arabian Nights,’ ‘Baron Munchausen,’ ‘Sindbad the Sailor,’ and ‘Gulliver’s Travels.’ I know how proud fathers like to boast of their smart sons. I’ve had my eye-teeth cut, Hugh. You’re a clever lad, I know, but if you talked until doomsday you couldn’t change my mind about the folly of this Boy Scout game.”

He spoke to his horse, and the two boys saw him go down the road in a cloud of dust, for it was the driest fall ever known about Oakvale.

Billy Worth—who was a pretty ample sort of a boy—a good-natured expression on his face most of the time, doubled up like a hinge, so far as his girth allowed, and seemed to be quivering with mirth.

Hugh Hardin was shaking his head as though he fancied he had run across about the hardest nut to crack of all his experience.

“What is there so funny about it, Billy?” he asked, for he was thinking how sorry he would be to report an utter failure to poor Addison Prentice, who was really wild to join the scouts, and had begged Hugh to intercede with his parent for him.

“I’ll tell you,” gasped Billy, trying hard to catch his breath. “When you said he was the only prominent man around here who didn’t think the scouts worth their salt, he had nerve to say he pitied them all for disagreeing with him. He made me think of a story I heard long ago.”

“Well, go on and tell it,” said Hugh, “for I know you’ll not be in shape to talk straight again until you get it out of your system.”

“Oh! it was only that chestnut about an Irishman who was on a jury that had to be discharged because they could not come to any agreement after being out ever so long. When some one asked him what was the matter he vowed he had never run across eleven such pig-headed men in his life; and that he was the only sensible member of the whole jury. Hugh, that stubborn Irishman is Mr. Prentice.”

“I guess you’re pretty nearly right, Billy; but don’t think I’ve given up trying to influence him on that account. Opposition only makes the game more worth playing. Something seems to tell me that we’ll make Mr. Prentice see a great light one of these days.”

“That’s the ticket, Hugh! ‘Never give up the ship!’ is our motto. We’ll try and get up some scheme to prove to Addison’s dad that he’s barking up the wrong tree when he thinks the scouts are a shiftless lot, who’ve got a reputation that hasn’t any foundation in fact.”

The boys were some little distance outside of the town of Oakvale when they had this conversation with Mr. Prentice, who owned the big quarry toward which he was heading when stopped on the dusty road by the chums.

Oakvale was proud of its troop of Boy Scouts, and justly so. If you do not know why this should be, it may pay you to secure a few of the previous volumes in this series and read what some of those boys had done to gain such an enviable reputation among the thinking people of the neighborhood.

Even a glance over the titles of these books will show the extent of their activities in the time that had elapsed since the troop was first organized. As Hugh and his comrades went steadily on their way as the weeks and months crept by, they were constantly finding numerous opportunities to add to the esteem in which they were held by the community.

Well had they proved the vast advantages which scouts have over ordinary, unattached boys in a country town. Organization had done wonders for many of the members of the troop. There was really not a single family in Oakvale a member of which wore the khaki of the troop but stood ready to openly declare that a most radical change for the better had followed since “Tommy joined the scouts.”

Hugh had received the proper credentials from Headquarters to be an assistant scout master; and sometimes during the temporary absence of Lieutenant Denmead, a genial, retired army officer who had willingly assumed that office because of his love for boys, Hugh filled his place acceptably.

If Mr. Prentice had not been one of the most stubborn men alive, and if he had been open to conviction, he certainly would never have closed his ears to the stories that were told of the doings of these Oakvale scouts, and proven to be absolutely true.

Why, only on the preceding spring several of them chancing to visit Lawrence, a town many miles away, during the great freshet which culminated in a disastrous flood, had aroused the dormant local scout troop, almost dead from lack of appreciation, and performed prodigies in the way of saving distressed families caught in their homes by the rising waters.

Then Hugh, on that same visit, had actually saved the life of a reckless boy who ventured onto a bridge threatened by the flood, snatching him off after he had fallen and become senseless just before a floating tree carried the structure down amidst the boiling waters of the torrent.

Later on when they were in camp near a large cement works it happened that there was a strike by the hundreds of foreign workmen, and the guards who had been brought from the city to defend the strikebreakers fired upon them.

As a result a dozen and more men, yes—and women, too—among the ignorant foreigners received serious gunshot wounds. Hugh and some of his chums hurried to the spot, organized a rude field hospital, and looked after the injuries of the wounded in a manner that called for high praise from the Red Cross surgeon coming on the field later on at the summons of Hugh Hardin.

For this great service, and for saving lives at the same time, every scout who had taken a part in that work now proudly displayed the coveted bronze medal which is sent from Scout Headquarters in New York City to any boy wearing the khaki who saves a life. Hugh was also the possessor of a gold medal, because he had saved that lad from the doomed bridge at the extreme risk of his own life.

Then, to come down to a period only a short time back, in the early days of the present dry autumn, the scouts had served as guides at the yearly County Fair in the vicinity of Oakvale. They had met trains, directed visitors to boarding places, answered innumerable questions, run errands, taken telegrams, and last but far from least, rendered first aid to the injured to a considerable number of persons who came to grief among the jostling throngs that visited the Exposition grounds.

(What else Hugh and some of his nearest and dearest chums managed to do during that time will be found narrated in the pages of the preceding volumes; and they should afford interesting reading to all who are concerned with the education of boys along other lines than those connected with ordinary school life.)

Hugh and Billy walked slowly on after their meeting with Mr. Prentice, which had been an accidental one. They saw that he had stopped his horse a little further along the road, and appeared to be examining some part of the hillside, since his extensive quarry ran for a quarter of a mile along the road.

The boys had climbed up the slope and were standing by the little narrow-gauge track down which cars loaded with stone were allowed to drop, checked by a brake, to the base of the hill, where wagons came and went.

This track crossed the county road at a certain place below where the two boys were standing. In reality it was a dangerous thing to allow, but during working hours the quarry company always kept a signal man there to see that vehicles were warned to keep back, whenever a car came down the almost level incline. An overhead trolley drew the empty car back up the rise again.

“Why, isn’t that a queer thing how that wagonload of children has gone and stopped right on the track of the stone chute!” exclaimed Billy, suddenly. “My stars! they must have got a wheel caught in the track somehow, for the horses don’t seem able to drag it off worth a cent. It would give the children a bad scare now if one of those stone cars started down the hill, eh, Hugh?”

“It’s to be hoped nothing of the kind happens,” said Hugh, “though with the brake set the man on the car could stop it easily enough. I was just wondering who those children are, and I’ve guessed it. They come from the orphan asylum.”

“Yes, that’s Sim Reeves’ rig, of the town livery stable, and he’s a good-hearted man, so I guess he loaned the wagon and driver just to give the poor kids a little outing on this fine Saturday afternoon. But I wish they’d hurry and get that wagon moving, for as sure as you live there’s a car loaded with stone starting slowly down the incline now.”

“Yes, you’re right,” said Hugh, thrilled by the thought of a catastrophe overtaking those innocents below.

“The man on it can’t see that there’s anything wrong down at the crossing,” cried Billy in great excitement. “He will soon, and put on the brakes.”

While Billy continued to keep his eyes glued on the coming car, Hugh on the other hand allowed his gaze to roam around. He even took several steps over to one side as though measuring the distance separating him from the track at a certain place.

All at once Billy gave a shriek.

“Hugh! look! look! the brake’s given way! There goes the man jumping for his life, and listen to the children screaming, will you? Hugh, can’t we do something? It’ll get going faster and faster, and—oh! Hugh, the poor, poor kids!”

CHAPTER II.
WHAT PRESENCE OF MIND MEANT.

While Billy Worth was talking Hugh was acting. That seemed to be a chronic habit with the scout master. An emergency never caused him to quail, and as a rule he could be depended on to do the right thing at the right time.

That was where the benefit of his preliminary look around came in. The very second that he discovered the accident to the descending stone-laden flat-car, Hugh knew that it was up to him to do something in order to save those imperiled orphans from a terrible calamity.

The car was on a run of the track that was very nearly level, so that as yet it had not attained the very great velocity sure to follow, after it came over the crown of the rise, just above where the two boys stood.

Hugh stooped and caught hold of a small log that he had noticed when he made his movement in the direction of the track. It took all his strength to lift it up, and Billy would have been of great assistance could his wits have served him as speedily as was the case with the scout leader.

With a tremendous effort Hugh raised the log and hurled it upon the track. Just as he intended it should do, it fell with one end braced in a cavity, and the other pointing upwards. When the onrushing heavy car struck that obstruction, it could not very well go any further, but must be hurled from the track.

All this happened almost in a breath. The car had now reached the edge of the steeper descent, and was seen by the frightened children below. Some of the youngsters were being flung from the wagon by the driver, but there would never have been time to have saved them all before the constantly increasing speed of the runaway car brought it upon the trapped wagon.

The horses, as though conscious of their peril, pranced and jumped wildly, but for all their antics did not seem able to release the imprisoned wheel. As for the children they shrieked louder than ever, for the anticipated danger had become a real one.

Billy began to realize that his more active chum had done something while he was only standing there shivering. He also found Hugh’s hand gripped on his arm, and that he was being dragged hastily back from the track.

“Oh!” gasped Billy, as with a rush and a roar the laden stone car came speeding down the incline.

Hugh held his very breath in fear lest the uptilted log might not project far enough to catch the base of the heavy car. But it turned out all right.

There was a mighty crash when car and log came in collision, and Hugh saw the descending vehicle of transportation flung bodily aside. It landed in a heap upside-down—something of a wreck, with the rocks scattered in all directions.

Billy tried to shout, but his best effort was hardly more than a whisper, such was the reaction that instantly set in when he saw the danger to the orphans was a thing of the past.

He did manage to seize Hugh’s hand and pat it tenderly, as though in that way he could find an outlet for the mingled emotions of gratitude and pride that filled his loyal heart.

Some scouts might have immediately hurried down, to allow themselves to be made heroes of by those who had witnessed this presence of mind on the part of the boy. That was not Hugh Hardin’s way.

“Go down if you want to, Billy,” he told the other, when importuned to descend to the road. “They’ve managed to get a lever under the wheel now, and pried it loose, so they can go on. I want to see just how the car struck, and how close it came to passing over the log without connecting.”

That seemed to be the point giving him the greatest satisfaction; for he found that had the stout little log been six inches shorter, it would have failed to throw the car from the track. What that meant made Hugh shiver as he looked.

“Here comes Mr. Prentice up to see what happened!” exclaimed Billy.

“There’s one thing this accident may bring about,” remarked Hugh, “and that’s a change in this grade. The stone cars should never cross the road at all, but go over or under it. When the town council hears about this new trouble, mark my words if they don’t make him change his grade.”

“It would be just like him to blame you for smashing his car, Hugh,” said Billy, who apparently did not entertain a very high opinion of the owner of the big stone quarry.

“Let him!” replied the other, unconcernedly. “The driver of the wagon must have seen all that happened. I’d be willing to go on record for what I’ve done. Still, knowing the kind of a man he is, I hardly expect to be thanked for saving him from a lot of lawsuits that might bankrupt him; or perhaps even being accused of criminal carelessness in a coroner’s court.”

Mr. Prentice came climbing hurriedly to the scene of the wreck. There was an awed expression on his face in place of its habitual stern look. The man who had jumped from the car when the brake gave way, and who was an ignorant foreigner, reached the spot about the same time.

The owner of the quarry examined the remains of his heavy car. Then he looked at the track, and discovered the partly broken log projecting upward.

“Who put that log in there?” he asked.

“I did, Mr. Prentice,” answered Hugh, modestly but firmly; “but only when I saw that the car was heading downward, and that it would likely strike the wagonload of children stalled on the crossing.”

Mr. Prentice did not say another word. He looked hard at the boy, who did not allow his eyes to drop a particle. Mr. Prentice was thinking many things just then; his mind must have been in a riotous condition.

He went back and again looked around at the scene of the wreck, up the hill, then down to where the wagon had been stalled.

“I guess he understands pretty well what a great thing you did for him when you jumped that car off the track, Hugh,” muttered Billy, as they watched the quarry owner moving around, and talking with the man who had abandoned the runaway car on finding the brake had given way.

“All I’m hoping is that he makes up his mind now never to drop another load of rock down this grade till he’s made it safe for anyone passing on the county road below,” Hugh replied.

“But he didn’t even thank you, Hugh.”

“I never expected he would, and it doesn’t matter a particle to me if he keeps on forgetting to,” said the scout master, smilingly. “There’s enough satisfaction in knowing you’ve done your duty, without looking for thanks or praise. The feeling that comes from within beats any outside commendation all hollow, according to my way of thinking.”

“Huh! I’d just like to tell the old man what I think of him,” grumbled the indignant Billy.

“For fear you might be tempted to say something you’d be sorry for afterward,” remarked Hugh, “suppose we slip down to the road and head for home.”

Though still grumbling, and evidently feeling pretty hard toward Mr. Prentice, Billy could not refuse to keep his chum company as the other started down the side of the hill in the direction of the road. He looked back several times, however, and said a few things half under his breath, which could not have been very complimentary to the quarryman, if the sour expression on Billy’s round face stood for anything.

Once down at the crossing the scouts stopped to exchange a few words with the man who was stationed there to signal when a car was coming. He, too, chanced to be a Polock and could not talk English very well, so Hugh looked for himself to see how it happened the wheel of the heavily-laden wagon came to be trapped in the way they had seen, and just at the wrong time.

Then they surveyed the situation so as to see whether it would be possible to build an overhead track, or dig one under the road.

“It can be done as easy as anything,” said Billy, after they had discussed this phase of the question. “You mark my words, this near-accident is going to be the last straw on the camel’s back. There’s been talk of making him change his grade a number of times! now it’s got to come. And, Hugh, they’ve got to thank you for——”

“Oh! come on, let’s be on the hike for home!” laughed the other, shaking his head as if to warn Billy he would not stop to listen to anything that bordered on praise.

Billy was muttering to himself as he followed, this time vowing that he’d see to it Hugh received all possible honor for having done a clever thing, in spite of his modesty about owning up to it.

As they entered the outskirts of the town it happened that they came upon a boy who must have seen them from a store near by, for he came running out to intercept the two scouts.

“Why, hello, Addison!” said Billy, giving Hugh a wink as much as to say: “Isn’t it queer that you sometimes run across the very fellow you’re thinking about?”

“Hugh,” said the boy, who was not as robust as he might have been, and had rather a pasty look about his face, which indicated too little outdoor exercise, “tell me, have you seen him yet?”

Hugh knew that he must give the other a grievous disappointment, but he would have to be told some time, and it had better be over with.

“Yes, it happened that we ran across your father up the road just a little while back, Addison, and thinking it as good a chance as any to speak to him about you joining the scouts, I started in.”

“But—you didn’t have any luck, did you, Hugh?” asked the boy, in a trembling voice, and with a disappointed look on his face.

“I’m sorry to say I didn’t seem to convince him just then that it would be a good thing for you to join the troop, Addison,” replied Hugh.

The boy drew a long breath. His lower lip quivered, and Billy ground his teeth in sudden anger at the short-sighted policy of a father who could not see how much necessity there was for a boy like Addison to be encouraged to take all the outdoor exercise he could get in order to build up his physical strength, and his nervous system in the bargain.

“I just expected it would be that way, Hugh,” he said, presently, “though you do have such splendid luck telling things that I kept hugging a little hope he might look into the matter, anyway. But it’s all over now.”

“Oh! I wouldn’t say that if I were you, Addison,” Hugh told him. “One of the very first things a scout is taught is never to give a thing up until he’s exhausted every possible effort. And I haven’t thrown the job over yet by any means.”

Addison tried to smile, but the effort was a dismal failure. He looked more inclined to break down and cry than anything else, Billy thought.

“It’s nice of you to say that, Hugh, and I’m sure you’ll do all you can; but I’ve nearly lost hope.”

“Get that notion out of your head, first of all, I tell you, Addison. I expect to see your father again, and while I can’t explain what I mean, still there are certain things working that may make him see matters in an entirely new light. Even Mr. Prentice has had to change his mind a few times in his life.”

“Oh! yes, in a business way, Hugh, but you don’t know my father. He’s got his notions of how boys ought to toe the chalk line, and nothing that can ever happen will make him look at things differently. It’s all up with me, and I’ll never be a scout, never!”

“Wait!” Hugh told him, as they separated, “there is still plenty of hope. I’ll be working for you, and a lot of the other boys will, too!”

CHAPTER III.
THE THREATENING PERIL.

“Did you ever see such a queer looking sun, fellows?”

Bud Morgan, when he made this remark to a group of other boys, stood on the campus of the Oakvale High School. Besides Bud there were present Arthur Cameron, Dale Evans, Billy Worth, Chester Brownell and Blake Merton, all of them scouts, although not wearing their khaki suits at the time.

“What else could you expect,” Arthur went on to say, “when we’ve had such a terribly dry fall? Why, the roads are an inch deep with dust right now.”

“I guess I ought to know about that,” added Dale Evans. “Only yesterday I had a chance after school to go with a party in his car. We made a run of thirty miles in all, heading south, and twice we had to stop at wells to wash the dust down our throats. I never saw anything like it.”

Another boy, who had been hurrying toward the group, came up while this talk was going on. His name was Alec Sands, leader of the Otter Patrol of the scouts.

There had been a time when Alec was a bitter enemy and a keen rival of Hugh Hardin for first honors; but when the latter forged ahead Alec came to his senses, and ever since they had been the best of friends, even chums.

“I’m surprised at you, Arthur,” he now exclaimed, which remark of course drew the attention of all the others to Alec, just as he intended it should.

“What for?” demanded the boy spoken to, who had a great reputation among his fellows as a coming authority in things pertaining to surgery.

“Well, in times gone by we’ve always looked up to you as a regular weather sharp and prophet; yet here you are agreeing with the rest of this ignorant bunch, and taking it for granted that the dry weather and the dust is the cause for that red sun. You’re away off, all of you; it’s smoke!”

“Smoke!” exclaimed Billy Worth. “Then, as they expected, the forest has been set afire. Is that what you mean, Alec?”

“Well, where there’s smoke it stands to reason there’s likely to be a fire back of it,” Alec told him, a little sarcastically it must be admitted.

“What do you know about it, Alec?” demanded Dale Evans.

“Yes, open up and tell us, like a good fellow,” added Blake Merton.

A clamorous circle of eager faces met Alec’s eye as he looked around. It pleased him to be the center of attraction, even in such a small matter as this, for Alec had not wholly mastered his love for power, which in the old days had been his besetting sin.

“Well, it was in this way I learned about it,” he began, deliberately. “I had occasion to go down to the post office just before school this morning, and there was a crowd of people around police headquarters. I thought the Chief might have been arresting some negro kid for playing craps, or something like that, so I stepped over just out of idle curiosity.”

“And what was it all about?” asked one of the others, as Alec purposely stopped so as to further arouse their eagerness.

“Why, messengers had come in from up north, asking for help to fight the forest fires that were getting more furious every hour. All sorts of stories were told about farms being burned over, people having to flee in the night with what clothes they had on their backs, and others being trapped in the burning woods.”

The boys exchanged looks of sudden anxiety. It was no laughing matter then, this having a forest fire sweep down upon a little settlement or community, with everything dry as tinder, and ready to burst into flames.

They turned as if by one impulse and looked long and earnestly toward the north. Some of them began to sniff the air suspiciously.

“Say, I do believe the wind’s changing right into the north,” said Chester.

“And I can get a whiff of wood smoke all right!” added Billy.

“I wonder if the fire can be around Rainbow Lake where we always had our summer camp in the good old days?” remarked another member of the group.

They were not alone in their scrutiny of the heavens, for other scholars, girls as well as boys, had begun to notice the distinct odor of smoke in the air, and were commenting on it, showing signs of growing excitement.

“If you look close, fellows,” remarked Alec, who had very keen eyes, “you can see a sort of dull haze low down near the horizon. That’s the smoke, and it’s heading this way in the bargain.”

“Why, you can see it moving like a cloud even while you watch!” declared Dale. “I wouldn’t be surprised if it covered the town like a regular blanket before long and frightened the women folks and children half to death.”

“There’s something doing up that way, all right,” said Blake Merton. “I can just imagine the thick woods that lie all around the base of Old Stormberg in sight of Pinnacle Peak, ablaze.”

“Gee! perhaps I wouldn’t like to be up there to see the sight!” remarked Billy.

“And to help fight the fire in the bargain,” added Alec. “That would be more than half the fun for me. I had one experience some years back when visiting some relatives in the country. It was a hot old time, too, and we came near losing the farm buildings.”

They stood there staring at the horizon toward the far north as though fascinated by the sight of that low hanging but advancing cloud, which all of them had decided must be smoke from the forest fires.

Play was forgotten that morning on the campus. Groups of boys and girls stood about, and talked, and looked. Already the shadow of a possible calamity for Oakvale seemed to have permeated the air. There were no loud shouts heard, and many of the more timid ones even lowered their voices when speaking of the new peril that had arisen to menace the peace of the community.

Long before the bell rang to call them within the buildings the pall of smoke had reached the town, and enveloped it. It looked weird and yellow and threatening. It also caused the tears to come unbidden to weak eyes; and whichever way they looked they could see the housewives of Oakvale standing at their front gates to exchange comments with the neighbors, equally appalled and alarmed.

“Huh! I don’t see how there’s going to be any lessons to-day with all this excitement in town,” remarked Billy, as he heard the summons to indicate that school was about to take up.

“It’s worse than the day the circus came to town,” suggested Spike Welling, who was another member of the scout troop.

When the scholars had come together in the large assembly hall it could be easily seen that many of them were in a poor condition for study or recitations. Some of the girls looked alarmed, and others had the appearance of being on the border of an attack of hysterics. Home was certainly the best place for them under such distressing conditions.

The principal, Professor Marvin, who was new to the school that year, though already well liked, looked exceedingly grave as he watched the scholars file in to take their accustomed places.

“He’s going to make some sort of an announcement, take my word for it,” Dick Bellamy managed to whisper to Billy, as their heads came close together.

“Gee! I only hope it means we’re going to be dismissed for the day,” muttered the stout boy. “Then there might be some sort of way for a fellow to get up there, and see just what a forest fire looks like.”

Professor Marvin stood up, with elevated hand, and you could have heard a pin drop, since the utmost silence fell upon the assembly.

“I have a most important communication to make to you this morning, young ladies and young gentlemen,” said the head master, who always made it a point to speak in a dignified way when addressing them. “Word has been received that the forest is on fire to the north of our town, and that there is serious danger of its coming this way. Men are needed to help fight the flames, and it would be folly to try and keep you here in school when no one is fitted for lessons. So I am going to dismiss you for the day. It depends on the weather whether there will be any further session of the school during the remainder of the week.”

Some of the boys acted as though they felt like giving a cheer, but something seemed to restrain them. If people were suffering, perhaps being ruined by the spread of the fire, so near Oakvale, it was no time for merriment or exulting over an unexpected holiday.

In their regular order, just as they had been taught in their fire drills, the scholars filed out of school. There was no confusion, no pushing, and little excitement visible.

No sooner had they reached the grounds than they looked about them, appalled at the changes which had taken place in the short time they had been inside. The smoke cloud had swooped down upon the town with a vengeance. They could see waves of the dense vapor scurrying along. At times it was hard to see a block away.

Some of the smaller children coming from the kindergarten classes in another school building near by, were crying as they ran along toward home, nor could any one really blame them for feeling frightened.

“Whew! this beats anything I ever saw before!” Monkey Stallings was saying as he caught up with several other boys. (He had come by that queer name through his great love for acrobatic feats, and one of his favorite pranks was to hang by his toes from the limb of a tree as though he were in truth a simian.)

“There goes a party of fire-fighters off in that car!” exclaimed Billy Worth, as a large touring car swept past, headed into the north, filled with some of the lusty men of the town, all in old clothes as though they anticipated a pretty hard tussle with the fire after they reached the front.

The look Billy cast after them told that deep down in his heart he was wishing he had a chance to hang on behind, so as to get up where things were happening. Billy liked to be in the midst of stirring events, though one would hardly believe it when they observed his build, for he was unusually stout.

“Guess there’ll be mighty little business down in Oakvale to-day,” suggested Don Miller, the leader of the Fox Patrol. “There goes Mr. Allison, the grocer, with Mudge, the butcher, in a buggy. As you live, there’s our principal, Professor Marvin, crowding in along with them.”

“He’s the right kind of school teacher; let’s give him three cheers when he passes by!” cried another of the boys.

They did give them with a hearty vim, and the head master seemed pleased, for he waved his hat at them and bowed. Evidently, when there was a need of men, Professor Marvin was ready to meet his obligations. He would undoubtedly do his little part in fighting the flames or saving imperiled country folks from being burned alive.

More than ever did Billy wish he could start off. He was trying to figure out whether it would pay to ask some of the other fellows to join him, and get a rig of some sort at the livery stable. They could, in this way, manage to make their way up closer to the raging fires, and see what things looked like, perhaps find a chance to help some of those who were being burned out.

“If only I could see Hugh now, we might manage to get up a scheme between us,” he was telling himself; and then calling out to the others he continued: “Has any one seen Hugh since we came out of school?”

“Yes, I had a glimpse of him running for all he was worth,” one boy announced.

“Oh! I wonder what’s up?” exclaimed Billy; and then he held his breath in rapture as the bell of the church where they held their meetings began to toll so loudly that the sounds could be heard all over town.

There were three sonorous strokes, then a pause, followed by three more. And every scout recognized it as the signal agreed on that was designed to be a “hurry call” for the troop to assemble at the meeting place!

CHAPTER IV.
THE CALL OF DUTY.

Billy immediately threw his arms around the nearest fellow who happened to be Monkey Stallings.

“Hear that summons, boys!” he cried, as he hugged the other in his overbounding enthusiasm. “It means Hugh has decided that the scouts ought to go up there in a body, and fight the forest fires! Just what I was wishing would happen! When there’s anything big going on, we’re the boys to get moving.”

“Let me loose, you bear!” gasped Monkey Stallings as he struggled in the enveloping arms of the other. “Do you want to squeeze me to death? Say, you can hug worse than any grizzly that ever came to town. Please don’t try that game on me in a hurry again, Billy! I’m too ticklish!”

“Come on, everybody, let’s put for the meeting place, and find out what’s in the wind!” called Don Miller.

“I’d say it was sure enough wood smoke, from the way it smarts your eyes,” declared another of the group, though no one laughed at his intended witticism, for they had more serious things to weigh upon their minds.

Boys were seen coming on the run from various directions. All of them converged toward the bell, still throbbing its startling message. The cry of Paul Revere in those old Continental days could hardly have thrilled the hearts of those who lived in Massachusetts villages and hamlets any more than the brazen notes of that bell did the gathering scouts.

Some were in uniform, others not, but that was a matter of very little importance just then. They were wild to learn why this hasty call had gone forth; and hoping it meant a chance to enter the fight against the oncoming forest fire.

Not only boys were running, for girls, women, and some men could be seen hastening toward the church. Like wildfire the news would spread that the scouts were going to take a hand in the game, and somehow people had come to place a wonderful amount of faith in Hugh Hardin and his comrades.

True, thirty mere boys could not do much when they tried to pit their puny powers against so savage a thing as a raging forest fire. Still, somehow, those good people had come to feel a degree of confidence in the ability of the troop to accomplish things. Their past history was a splendid one, and on a number of occasions never to be forgotten, they had attained triumphs that made Oakvale very proud to own them.

So from lip to lip went the cry: “The scouts are going out to fight the fire!” Mothers, who had boys enrolled in the troop, surveyed that dark pall of smoke and turned pale with new apprehension. It seemed as though some frightful peril might be hovering off where those fires burned; and while it was right sturdy men should go forth to assist those in distress, each mother’s heart was a battleground of pride and fear as she contemplated the possibility of some disaster overtaking the boy she loved.

The crowd grew in volume as minutes passed. Each scout upon arriving pushed in so as to reach the center of the gathering. When Hugh and Walter Osborne, the Hawk leader, came out of the church, they having been ringing the loud-pealing bell, it was a startling scene that met their eyes.

Fully three hundred people had gathered there. The appearance of the assistant scout master was greeted with loud cheers.

“What’s doing, Hugh?” cried one eager boy.

“Are we going up to the foot of Old Stormberg?” asked another.

When Hugh stepped forward and held up his hand all these voices stopped.

“There is a great need of help up there, they say,” he told them in a ringing tone, “not only to fight the fires, but to save property, perhaps helpless people who have been burned out and are in danger. If we went in a body we might find a chance to make ourselves useful; and so I have decided to ask the members of Oakvale Troop to join with me in the work!”

“Hurrah!”

Scores of lusty voices took up the cheer until the volume of sound rolled along through that entire part of the town. Those women who had remained at home, though still at their gates, with aprons over their heads it might be, seemed readily to guess what that vociferous cheer in boyish voices meant.

The scouts were going! Strange how a little thing like that could give them a thrill, but it seemed to all the same.

“Remember,” continued Hugh, when the clamor which his announcement had caused died away, “it is optional with every one of you whether he goes or not. You can be of great service to those who are in trouble. Still, if any scout’s mother does not wish him to be of our party he should stay at home.”

“No danger of that happening, Hugh!” called out one boy.

“We’ve got the right kind of mothers, and they’ve proved it in the past. Count on a full attendance, Hugh!” another informed him, at which there were further loud cheers.

After that it was hardly to be expected that any mother would dream of objecting to her boy going to the front, no matter how her fond heart might be gripped with natural fears. Pride would step in and make sure that the finger of scorn should never be pointed at her boy.

“Get away home now, fellers,” said Hugh, “and change your clothes. Put on any old suit you’ve got, it doesn’t matter what it looks like. With sparks flying around you’re apt to have some damage done before we come back. Don’t waste any time, but get back here. We start in exactly half an hour.”

He knew that every single boy would be on the run, and eager to get back to the rendezvous long before those thirty minutes had expired.

“Another thing!” Hugh called out as they were starting away, “bring canteens along with you if you have them; and don’t forget your big red bandana handkerchief above all things, with an old campaign hat that will protect your neck from any sparks!”

There never existed a more excited lot of boys than Oakvale boasted about that time. All over town they could be seen running wildly this way and that, with people trying to ask questions which the hustling scouts were too busy to answer.

By the time fifteen minutes had expired a dozen of them had arrived at the designated meeting place, all flushed and eager. One after another the rest came on the run, showing signs of relief at finding they were not too late.

Had any scout been actually left behind on that occasion he would have been the most heart-broken fellow ever seen. The crowd was greater than ever as new arrivals constantly augmented it. A buzz of tongues told that the women were trying to explain how matters stood to those who could not understand what all this excitement meant.

Hugh was keeping count of the boys as they came up. He had them ranged alongside the wall of the church, so that he would know when the full quota had arrived. It pleased him to see how anxious they all were to join their fortunes with the expedition that was about to set forth, bent on a new work of usefulness.

It still lacked five minutes of the appointed time, and yet Hugh believed that every member of the troop who might be expected to gather had done so. Two boys he knew were sick at home, and another was away from town; but the rest were on hand.

“There’s no use waiting any longer, Hugh!” called out Billy Worth. “We’re all on deck, you see.”

Everybody stopped talking when Hugh was seen to step forward again, and raise his hand. This boy had won the respect of Oakvale through his manly qualities. He had even managed to disarm the enmity of certain boys who at one time had striven to throw every obstacle possible in his path.

“We’re going to start off, fellows,” he announced, cheerily; “and it isn’t too late yet for any one who isn’t in good shape to do a lot of work to drop back. Fall in, double file, and we’ll be moving!”

Quickly they obeyed. Not a single boy dropped out of line; indeed, just then it would have required a most powerful lever to have dragged any of them aside. They did not know what awaited them up where that billowing smoke came from; possibly it might mean danger, and surely suffering from the pungent vapor that smarted the eyes, but they believed duty called them, and they were wild to go.

The crowd parted to let them pass through. Other boys who did not belong to the troop cheered them as they walked smartly along, keeping excellent military step.

There were no inspiring notes of the bugle to cheer them this time, no exhilarating throb of the drum to enliven their steps; but nevertheless every boy’s face was an index to the feelings of his heart, and they shone with delight.

On down the street they went, followed by the crowd that seemed bent on seeing the last of them. Never had the scouts presented a more manly bearing, though all of them were shabbily dressed, a few in cast-off khaki suits, others wearing such garments as they could find around home of the kind that it would not matter if they were utterly ruined in the fire-fighting.

Now they had passed beyond the outskirts of the town. The crowd had left them with a parting cheer. Ahead lay the road leading to the region being devastated by the furious flames. Sturdily they set out to walk all the way up to the burning woods in order that they might be of some assistance to those in distress.

CHAPTER V.
CARRIED TO THE FRONT.

“It’s going to be something of a hike for us, I reckon,” Billy Worth remarked, as they covered the first half mile of ground.

While Billy’s ambition knew no bounds, and he was always ready to attempt any feat which others, who were much more nimble, could accomplish, he was often sadly handicapped by his extra weight. Although the rest of the boys were swinging lightly along, and thinking nothing of the exertion, Billy was puffing like a porpoise. He was also secretly mopping his face with his red bandana handkerchief, which he had knotted loosely around his neck, cowpuncher fashion, a trick most scouts are fond of emulating.

“Yes, and we’re all sorry on your account, Billy,” ventured Buck Winters. “Hiking never was your best hold. If a prize was offered to the longest sitter, you’d come under the wire a victor every time.”

“It’ll be a good thing to cut down your heft some, too, Billy,” another scout told him. “Nothing half so fine as sweating it off. That’s what all the prize fighters do when they have to get into trim.”

“Hugh,” called out Alec, for they were not trying to keep any sort of order now, each tramping along with some comrade he had picked out, though not strung out over more than ten yards of road, “have you been able to learn what sort of a fire it is up here?”

“Only that the woods are ablaze for a long distance,” replied the scout master. “Some accounts say the fire front is five miles long, and growing every hour.”

“I asked,” continued Alec, “because there are two kinds of forest fires. One, and the most terrible, is where the trees themselves are burning, and that means the utter ruination of the whole tract. I’ve seen miles and miles up in Michigan where only stumps stand up like fingers. I certainly hope that isn’t going to be the case here, for we’d miss those woods the worst way in summertime.”

“But you spoke of another sort of fire, Alec; tell us about it?” asked Shorty McNeil, whose hobby lay in collecting strange plants, and who on that account would be very sorry to see the forest ruined, since he spent much of his spare time under the trees, searching for new varieties of wild flowers.

“Why, at this time of the year,” Alec went on to explain, “when most of the leaves have fallen, if a spark drops among them and a fire follows it runs along the ground, eating up all the dead stuff. It makes a terrible smoke, and lights up the sky nights, but it isn’t so dangerous as the other sort of fire.”

“Which kind would you think this one will turn out to be, Alec?” asked Billy.

“I’d rather believe it was the bush sort, though it may turn out some of the trees are ablaze, too. You see, all sorts of logs lying on the ground, dead stumps, piles of wood cut for fence rails and that sort of stuff gets to going with the rest, so it makes a fierce blaze.”

“And with this strong wind blowing it must travel pretty fast at that, I take it,” remarked Bud Morgan.

“Look out back there!” shouted Ralph Kenyon, “some sort of car coming along in a big hurry; don’t block the road. Perhaps it’s the Oakvale fire department starting on to lend a hand at putting the blaze down!”

Ralph had once upon a time spent much of his time in the woods. In summer he had hunted for places where patches of wild ginseng or golden rod grew, the roots of which he dug up in season, dried, and sold at a good profit.

Then, too, in the winter, he had been wont to trap all sorts of small fur-bearing animals for the sake of their pelts, which brought him in a fair price when sent to a dealer in the city.

Ralph had seen a great light after he joined the scouts. Nothing could tempt him nowadays to injure an innocent little animal, merely in order that he might increase his savings bank account. He had even grown to enjoy watching them frolic in their native haunts which he knew so well.

While others were thinking wholly of human misery apt to follow this sweep of the fire, Ralph had an aching heart for the wood’s denizens who, caught in the trap, were apt to perish miserably.

The tooting of an automobile horn told that the car coming behind them was close to the bend they had just recently turned. Warned in time, the scouts crowded to the side of the road and left an open space for it to pass through.

No sooner did they glimpse the car than the boys started shouting.

“Why, it’s Mr. Lewis, the liveryman!” one called out.

“And he’s got his big rubberneck twenty-passenger car, too!” cried a second.

“Hey! it’s empty, don’t you notice, fellows!” came from a third keen-eyed boy. The sight-seeing tourist car came to a stop alongside the waiting boys. The man at the wheel gave them a smile.

“Pile aboard every one of you, like hot cakes!” he told them.

“What’s this mean, Mr. Lewis?” asked Hugh. “Have you come after us with your rig to help get us up to the fire lines?”

“Just what I’ve done,” replied the other, heartily. “You boys have done so many fine things for Oakvale that we’re all proud of you. We want to do what little we can to help you along. I thought of my car too late to get you in town, but that didn’t stop me. Find seats all who can, and the rest hang on like grim death. We’re going to start now. All aboard.”

“Those that can’t get aboard get a rail!” called Billy, who being one of the first to clamber up on the “rubberneck” or sight-seeing car had managed to install himself in a comfortable seat in the middle, where he could not be crowded off.

They were soon going along at a fast clip, the boys giving a shout every time one of the “thank-you-mums” in the road, intended to throw off the water in heavy rain storms, caused them to jolt up and down.

“This is a thousand per cent. better than walking, let me tell you, everybody!” asserted Billy Worth.

“It was a fine idea for you to think of us as you did, Mr. Lewis,” said Hugh.

“Save us some hours of hard work, which would leave us in a poor shape to fight fires, I should say,” Bud Morgan declared.

“After I drop you as near the fire as I care to venture with my car,” the liveryman said, “I expect to turn around somehow, and run back for another load. There will be plenty of men volunteers to come up and work. With Oakvale threatened with total destruction, none of the mills or factories will think of keeping their employees on duty, so I ought to pick up a number of loads of fire-fighters.”

“Can’t be too many,” asserted Alec, as though his past experience told him that.

“Whew! but this smoke is no joke, let me tell you!” complained Monkey Stallings, digging his knuckles into his smarting eyes, from which the tears were springing.

“How about it, Hugh,” Alec now asked, “are we going to try and beat out the fire or will we put in our time saving some of the threatened farm buildings? We ought to know all this country up around Pioneer Lake like a book; and once we get our bearings it’ll be easy for us to tell whose place is most in danger.”

“In most cases,” said Hugh, “as far as I know, when a forest fire gets fully started, and with a wind to drive it on, all the men that could be got together can’t stop the spread of the flames. They’re bound to keep on jumping ahead with all the sparks blowing until it rains and puts the fire out.”

“Then we’ll devote our time to helping farmers, will we?” asked one of the boys, a little note of disappointment discernible in his tone, for he had evidently pictured himself as a heroic figure forcing the fire demon to obey his will.

“The chances are,” Hugh told him, “that we’ll get all the work we want in trying to protect the sheds, hay-stacks, barns, and houses that are in danger of being devoured by the fire.”

“That’s correct, Hugh,” assented Alec. “Mr. Lewis, I think you’re wrong in believing any fire could reach Oakvale. There happens to be a pretty wide open stretch to the north of the town, where we play ball, you remember. It couldn’t cross that, as the grass is short, and even boys could beat it out.”

“I was thinking of the sparks that would be blown over the houses,” said the livery-stable owner. “Look up right now and you’ll see signs of them. If it was a dark night you’d never forget the sight.”

“Then let’s hope those clouds that have come up mean business, and it’ll rain before many hours,” said Billy, fervently.

They had made rapid progress and must now be in the region of the fire. The smoke was worse than at any previous time, and others besides Monkey Stallings had commenced to rub their eyes.

“I’ll go a little further,” remarked Mr. Lewis, who had slowed down somewhat; “and when I find a good place to turn I’ll have to ask you boys to vacate.”

Hugh was doubtless figuring on his plan of campaign. Yes, they did know this region pretty well, which would prove a good thing in this emergency. Had it chanced to be strange to them they would not know which way to go in order to render any assistance; and in consequence their coming would be next to useless.

On the way they had passed a number of houses, and found the women folks the only ones at home, besides the children, when there were any. The men had evidently been drafted to fight the fire raging in so many places in the forests around the foot of the mountain.

Even these women were doing what little they could to save their possessions in case the fire came their way. They were drawing water in all sorts of tubs and other receptacles, some even digging ditches on the north side of the farm buildings as though in that Western way they hoped to keep the enemy at a distance.

“Oh! look there!” suddenly exclaimed “Whistling” Smith, a boy whose recognized ability as an imitator of birds had long ago given him this nickname.

“Our first glimpse of the fire line!” said Hugh, as all of them stared hard at what they could see through an opening in the timber bordering the road.

It was true enough. They could watch the play of the flames as they climbed up a tree that may have been dead, for it certainly burned like a torch.

“That looks like business, I’m telling you!” remarked Tom Sherwood, the water athlete of the troop, and who could do almost anything well, since he had both the physique and the quickness of action that are so necessary to success.

“And here’s a wider place in the road where by crowding I may be able to make a turn about,” remarked the driver of the “rubberneck” car.

“Jump off, fellows!” ordered Hugh, suiting the action to the words himself, and making a safe landing.

There was a hasty getaway, Billy turning out to be the only clumsy member of the lot; a slip of his foot just at the instant he sprang causing him to roll over after he alighted. He was seized and dragged to a place of safety by his comrades before the car could back, and run over him.

Mr. Lewis knew how to manage, it proved. He made a couple of turns back and forward, and then had his car facing toward Oakvale.

“Good-by, boys!” he called out to them.

“We’ll surely remember this kindness, Mr. Lewis,” shouted Alec Sands.

“It was only a pleasure to haul such a fine lot of fire-fighters to the work they mean to tackle,” the liveryman replied over his shoulder. “Good luck to you, boys, and mind your eye! Do all the good you can for these poor folks up here, but remember, too, you’ve got mothers at home, and don’t be rash. Avoid the fire-traps, boys!”

CHAPTER VI.
THE BURNING FOREST.

When the car was lost sight of in the pall of smoke that had settled down over that section of the county, Hugh took it upon himself to explain the plan of campaign which he had mentally mapped out while on the road.

“Whatever we do, fellows,” he told the scouts clustering around him, all with eager faces, and perhaps streaming eyes, for that smoke did smart tremendously, “we know there’s no use going behind the line of fire. When it’s once passed over a place either the damage has been done, or else the farm has had a narrow escape. What we want to do is to keep moving along in front of the fire, so as to try to keep it from ruining some of these people.”

“Tell us our duty, Hugh, and you’ll find every scout on the job,” said Alec.

“I know that without you telling me, Alec,” the scout master replied. “Now, to the left lies the Heffner farm. I don’t think the fire can have reached there so far, though it’s heading that way fast. I’m going to take half of your number and strike through the woods here to help Mrs. Heffner. You know she’s been trying to make a living for her little family of children since her husband died two years ago. If anybody needs assistance they do.”

“Only half did you say, Hugh?” exclaimed Shorty McNeil, in a panic lest some of them be left out of the lively game.

“Yes, because I want Alec with the rest to turn off to the right of us. You know how the land lies, and what course to take to get to old Zeke Ballinger’s poultry farm, where he raises squabs, and broilers for the city market. If the fire puts him out of business it’s going to ruin the old man, for he barely makes a living now. Do your level best to save his buildings, Alec.”

“We certainly will, Hugh, and thank you for trusting me with the job. How shall we divide the troop?” asked the leader of the Otters.

“I’ll pick one, and then you do the same,” said Hugh. “We’ll keep it up till all have been selected. Billy, step over here with me.”

Billy felt proud of having been the first choice of the scout master; but he knew very well it was pure personal affection that brought this about, and not any belief that he could render better service than any of the other fellows; indeed, the more agile scouts were apt to discount all of Billy’s efforts, no matter how strenuously he tried to excel.

“I’ll take Tom Sherwood,” said the leader of the Otters, promptly.

Hugh’s second choice proved to be Arthur Cameron, for he knew what a useful member of a rescue party the student of surgery was likely to prove. After that they picked their followers rapidly. It was amusing to notice how each patrol leader made sure to get those of his own command first of all, before turning to others. Still, this was only natural, since they were supposed to know the particular virtues of those with whom they came in frequent contact.

The division was quickly accomplished. Fourteen boys stood back of Hugh and an equal number waited to obey the orders of Alec.

The two leaders only halted to make an arrangement looking to a possible combination of their forces later on. If it was found that their assistance was no longer needed at the place to which they had gone, the party thus set at liberty was to hasten to join the other. After that further plans could be arranged; for evidently there would be plenty of work to do all along the line.

“Is that all, Hugh?” asked Alec, who was plainly impatient to be moving.

“Yes, good-by, and hope you have luck!” the scout master told him.

“Same to you; come along, fellows, we’re off!”

One party plunged into the woods on the right of the road, while the other vanished in the opposite direction. Of course neither knew what obstacles they might encounter on their way, or which mission would prove to be the more difficult.

Hugh had chosen to go to the farm of Mrs. Heffner because his sympathies were more strongly aroused in her case. True, old Zeke Ballinger was to be pitied, for he had every dollar he possessed invested in that little poultry and squab ranch, and would be utterly ruined if the fire took it. Still, he was a man, after all. A lone widow, fighting to make a living off a small farm for her children, should be considered first of all, Hugh thought.

“Sure you’ve got your points of the compass right, are you, Hugh?” asked Billy, with the familiarity that years of friendship for the scout master gave him. When there was need of displaying the spirit of a private in the ranks toward his commanding officer, Billy could do it all right; but as a rule he met Hugh as one chum would another.

“I think I have, to the fraction of a dot,” replied the other. “I know what a bad job it would be to make a mistake.”

“I should say it would,” Billy asserted. “If we happened to get mixed up in the woods, and wandered around, first thing we knew we might find ourselves trapped by the old fire, and beautifully singed in the bargain.”

“We’re heading straight for the Heffner farm,” Hugh assured him. “A little further on we ought to strike the zigzag trail she uses to come out on the main road. If Mr. Lewis had carried us on a little further we’d have struck the junction.”

The other boys were also talking among themselves, but in a subdued sort of way. Glimpses of the fire, which they could catch at irregular intervals, inspired them with considerable respect regarding the conflagration. In fact, they felt somewhat awed, to tell the truth.

In the past some of them had passed through queer experiences with Hugh Hardin as their leader, but never one like this, with the woods on fire, and people to be rescued, as well as property to be saved.

“What’s that strange humming noise we can hear every little while, Hugh?” asked Jack Durham.

“It’s the roar of the fire, as sure as anything,” Ralph Kenyon told him before the scout master could say a word.

“But why does it come and go like that?” insisted Jack. Some of the other boys shrugged their shoulders, and listened to once again catch the peculiar sound mentioned.

“The wind changes, or else drops down to a lull,” Ralph explained. As he was reckoned a clever woodsman, Jack accepted the theory without a protest.

“Ralph is quite right there,” Hugh added. “If that miserable breeze would only die down, the fires might be gotten under control; but so long as it keeps going it is bound to whip a spark into a flame. If an army of men put the fire out in one place they’d hardly turn their backs before the wind would make it spring up again like magic.”

“Hang the wind, anyway!” said Billy energetically. “It blows billions of sparks ahead and starts new blazes by the dozen.”

“It’s only a good thing when you’re sailing a boat, flying a kite, or something like that,” asserted Harold Tremaine, the newest member of the Wolf Patrol, he having taken the place of a boy whose folks had moved away from town some months before.

The going was not so very smooth, even in the daytime, for matted bushes often caused them to make little detours, and there were other obstacles which had to be passed over.

“Gee! I’d hate to be trying to run through here at night-time,” said Billy, as he caught his foot in a wild grapevine and measured his length on the ground.

“With a fire racing after you, eh, Billy?” remarked Ralph Kenyon. “It strikes me you’d stand a pretty good chance of being roasted.”

“Don’t mention such a thing, Ralph, if you care for my feelings,” the stout boy begged him. “I was thinking of some ferocious wild animal rather than of a fire. Hugh, how about that little side road you spoke of; hope we haven’t been so unlucky as to miss it?”

“I expect to come on it in another minute or so, unless all my calculations are wrong, and I don’t believe they are,” was the confident reply which the scout master gave him.

“Seems to me I can see something that looks like a woods lane just ahead there by that silver birch, Hugh!” spoke up Monkey Stallings, who was with them.