CHAPTER XVI.
FIGHTING THE FIRE.
MIDNIGHT and the silence of sleep hung over the little camp, whensuddenly there came the shriek of the whistle from the machine, fourlong blasts--the distress signal--and from their lines the guards camerunning in, crying, "Fire! Fire!"
Our little party, awakened by the din, stopped only to slip on theirshoes, and when they emerged from the tent it was to find the Spaniardshalf-dressed, pouring out of their shelters. One glance was all thatwas needed to take in the situation. Not half a mile distant from thecamp the prairie was a mass of flames. A strong wind was blowing fromthe north, and it was rapidly sweeping the flames down upon the littlecamp.
"My!" exclaimed Walter. "It looks as though we were goners, all right."
"Let's fight as long as we can, anyway," said Charley, who was rapidlymaking his plans. "Captain, get all the buckets out of the cook tent,and set half the men to wetting down the tents; the other half willcome with me. Walt, come with me, also. Come on, men. Each of youbring along a big spruce limb with you."
"We have got to fight fire with fire," he explained to Walter, ashe headed for the path the guards had trod down in the grass. "Justoutside the path is the best place to start a back fire. The path willhelp to keep it from working back on the tents."
The two lads tore up big bunches of dry grass, and, lighting them, ranalong the half-circle path, scattering fire as they went. The Spaniardswere quick to catch the idea, and, stationing themselves at regularintervals along the path, with their green spruce boughs they beat outthe flames that leaped the little path and threatened the tents. Theprairie grass was knee high, and as dry as tinder, and, although thewind was against it, the back fire ate its way steadily back toward theleaping flames.
"We have done all we can," said Charley to his chum, as they stoodwatching anxiously the approach of the flames. "It's a toss-up whetherwe will win or not. If our camp goes, we are done for, that's all. Wehaven't got the money to refit again. My! that would be a wonderfulsight to enjoy if our future wasn't hanging in the balance."
It was, indeed, a wonderful sight. The fire, now scarcely a quarterof a mile away, was sweeping steadily down upon them, a solid wall offlame ten feet high licking up the dry grass with a roaring cacklelike a mighty wind in a forest, while toward it the back fire wasslowly but steadily eating its way. The space between the two fireswas as bright as day, and in it the lads could see scores of animals,running bewildered here and there, trapped between the two lines offlames: deer, coons, wild-cats and foxes ran back and forth in franticterror. Within twenty feet of where the boys stood a lithe form clearedthe flames of the back fire in a mighty leap, and rushed by the tents,heedless of the presence of human beings in its mad flight for safety.
"A panther," commented Charley briefly, as the terror-stricken animalrushed by.
During all this time the other occupants of the camp had not been idle.Under the Captain's directions, his gang of Spaniards had formed abucket line from the ditch to the tents, and they soon had the littledwellings dripping with water. The teamster had got his frightenedmules out of the corral and led them to a place of safety on the grade,and the two engineers had run the truck out on the road beyond theline of flames. Their tasks done, all--Americans and Spaniards--workedto get their most valuable possessions to a place on the grade werethey would be safe. They had but little time to work, however, for theintense heat soon drove them back to the road, where they gatheredtogether and watched anxiously the meeting of the fires. They had notlong to wait. With a roar, in which was mingled the cries of thetortured animals, the advancing wall of fire swept down on the thinline of back fire. Our little party held their breath and waited. Ifthe wall of flame leaped the dozen or so feet the back fire had eatenaway, their camp was gone. Five minutes and a transformation had takenplace. Of the mighty conflagration nothing remained but the blacked,smoking dirt of the prairie. The back fire had vanquished its mightyrival. But the danger was not yet over. The wind had swept bits ofblazing grass down among the tents, and tiny fires were springing up ina hundred different places. These the boys and their followers beat outwith the green branches of the spruces. It was a full half hour beforethe last of them was extinguished, and they were able to stop and rest,and take account of the damage done. No one was seriously hurt, but allbore marks of the conflict, in the way of burned clothing, singed hair,and blisters, but all were too happy over the saving of the camp to paymuch attention to these minor injuries.
"Whew! that was a close shave," said Walter; "but all's well that endswell. By the way, I didn't see anything of McCarty and his crew. Ishould have thought he would have come in with his men and given us ahand."
"Perhaps he has had his hands full out there," suggested CaptainWestfield. "Maybe that fire was just set so as to draw the men off themachine."
"I never thought of that," said Charley, anxiously. "The fire droveeverything else out of my head. Let's go out and see what's the matter.The machine isn't running."
As if in answer to their conversation, there came from the machinethree long blasts of the whistle, a pause, then four long blasts.
"The signal for the wagon, and the distress signal," Walter cried.
The three lads went forward on the run, followed by half a dozencurious Spaniards. The Captain remained behind to keep an eye on thecamp.
The boys were half way to the machine when the signals soundedagain--three long blasts, followed by four long blasts.
Panting, they reached the machine, and clambered up on the steelplatform, where the fireman and the two ground men were grouped aroundMcCarty, who lay motionless, with his head in a little pool of blood.
Charley dropped to his knees beside the prostrate lad and felt for hispulse. "He is alive, all right," he exclaimed. "We'll have to get himto camp before we can do anything for him. Bossie, how did this happen?"
"Two men climb aboard while we standing still looking at fire," saidthe excited fireman. "McCarty no see them. I no see them. We busywatching fire, ground men busy watching fire, too. I no see them tillthere come a crack and McCarty falls. Man hit him over the head with agun. Other man hit at me. I dodge. I got steam hose in my hand. I turnsteam hose on two men. It burn them, plentee. They yell plentee. Theydrop guns. Run, plentee run."
By the time he had finished his narrative, the wagon had arrived, andMcCarty was gently lifted and placed in it, and the wagon headed backfor camp.
"Please stay by the machine, Walt," Charley requested, as he took hisseat in the wagon and pillowed McCarty's head in his lap. "I'll sendone of the engineers to take McCarty's place as soon as I get to camp."
As soon as the wagon had gone Walter took one of the ground men'slanterns, and looked around for the guns Bossie claimed the strangeassailants had dropped. He found both, half buried in the soft sandbeside the car. They were Savage rifles, of the latest make, equippedwith Maxim silencers. The lad ejected one of the cartridges, and pryingout the bullet, examined the powder. It was high-grade smokeless. Hegave one of the rifles to Bossie, much to the fireman's delight. "Ithink," said the Spaniard in his quaint English, "I think this be muchmore better than steam." The other rifle the lad gave to the groundman, with instructions to keep it always with him. He was showingthem how to operate it, when Bob Bratton arrived to take McCarty'splace. Bob grinned as he saw the Spaniards awkwardly handling theirnew weapons. "They are more likely to shoot themselves than one of theenemy," he commented, "but I guess it will make them feel safe to havea gun along with them."
"How's McCarty?" Walter asked, anxiously.
"Oh, he's come too, all right," answered the other carelessly. "He gota pretty good crack over the head, but it didn't break the skull any.He'll be all right in a couple of days. Meanwhile," he added, with asigh, "Will and I will have to work twelve-hour shifts."
"Are you not afraid to work nights, with all the queer things that aregoing on around us?" Walter asked curiously.
The other laughed frankly. "Thunder, no," he
said. "Dredge men get usedto danger. It's around them all the time. Why, kid, when we are workingin the Everglades, it is often impossible to hire men to work in therotten mud, and then we have to go to the jails and convict camps toget our labor. I've worked on jobs there that there were no free men onthe payroll but the engineers. All the rest were men working out theirfines, and every last one of them eager to crack the engineers overthe head and get away. Bosh! This job is a cinch compared with somejobs we have all worked on."
The sun was rising when Walter started back to camp. He had only gone afew steps when he stopped and waited. From the direction of Indiantown,a horseman was approaching the machine. The waiting lad recognized thepony and its rider. It was the little man whom he had escorted past themachine a couple of days before.
The Boy Chums in the Florida Jungle Page 16
