Chapter Nine
THE FIRE SWEEPS ON
When Janet and Helen returned to the spacious ranch yard, they found themen in the company gathered in a council of war near the bus. They weredebating whether to risk remaining at the ranch or attempt to push oninto the hills and onto higher ground.
Billy Fenstow felt the ranch would be safe and was loath to attempt togo any further, but Curt Newsom, who had been watching the shiftingclouds of crimson, was wary.
"A little more and the wind will shift enough to bring the fire downinto this valley. Once it's here it will travel like a race horse andwe'll never reach safety," he warned.
The director pointed to several heavy steel containers which held thelast of the shots for "Water Hole."
"Who's going to lug those through the hills?" he demanded.
"We could take turns," retorted Curt. "Here's a better one. Are thosecans watertight?" He shot the question at one of the cameramen.
"They're safe enough, all right," he replied.
"Then let's fasten wires to the handles and lower them into the wellhere. If we have to run for it, we'll not be bothered with these heavycontainers and we'll know the last shots are safe."
Billy Fenstow agreed that Curt's suggestion was an excellent one andthey scattered in search of a coil of wire. One was found near thebunkhouse. It was fastened to one of the containers and the heavy steelreceptacle was lowered into the well. The wire was cut and the upper endsecurely fastened to a timber. Then the operation was repeated, thesecond can being lowered until it reached the bottom of the well. Curtsnipped the wire with a pair of pliers and fastened the end with thefirst one.
Janet had been watching the skyline intently. Perhaps she was simplyover-wrought, but she felt sure that the crimson glow had brightened asthough the fire was nearer their own valley.
"Watch the skyline," she urged Helen. "See if the glow is brightening."
Helen peered through the half-light. Then she shook her head.
"I can't be sure, but I think the fire must be nearer," she said. "Hadwe better tell Curt?"
"Yes. He'll want to know."
The girls called the lanky cowboy aside and Janet confided her fears tohim.
Curt spun on his heels and stared into the flame-rent sky.
"Maybe I'm imagining things, but it looks bad," he muttered. Then hecalled Billy Fenstow over to him and the rotund little director agreedthat the fire must be getting nearer.
Curt sniffed the smoke. "It's getting thicker. We'd better get out ofhere."
"What about the bus?" demanded the director.
"We'll use that as far as we can. There's a trail that goes at least amile back in the hills. After that we'll have to go on afoot."
Orders snapped from Curt's lips. Back into the bus piled the company,Janet and Helen were among the last and they stopped long enough besidethe well for deep drinks of the cool water. It might be many an hourbefore they would have such an opportunity again.
Curt took the wheel for he knew the trail into the hills. The motorroared with a heavy song of power and they were away once more, fleeingbefore the ever-hungry flames.
Janet and Helen sank back on the cushions of the rear seat. The trailwas soft and sandy and although the bus lurched heavily at times, theyhad an opportunity to relax a little.
Helen slipped off her oxfords and rubbed her aching feet.
"Oh, for a good, hot bath," she moaned. "My feet will never be the sameagain."
"Mine ache a little even with my boots on," admitted Janet. She wouldhave liked to have slipped out of her boots and wriggled her toes butthey were too hard to lace up again.
Curt was driving with a desperate intentness as the going became moredifficult. The trail had faded into two thin tracks and it was roughernow.
Sharp rocks protruded and at any moment a tire might give way. But theykept on boring into the hills. The engine was working hard now as theyascended a grade and Janet looked back through the broad, rear window ofthe bus.
The valley they had just left was plainly visible and topping the ridgeabove the ranchhouse were the first racing tongues of flame. They hadstarted just in time.
Helen turned around and together the girls watched the fire skip downthe slope. When the scene was finally shut off by their own descent intoanother valley, the fire was almost to the ranchhouse and Janet feltsick at heart as she thought of the destruction which was inevitable forthe friendly, rambling old structure.
The trail they had been following faded completely away and Curt broughtthe bus to a stop.
"Want to get out and walk or shall we go on in the bus?"
The director's reply came quickly.
"Where can we go?"
Curt shrugged his shoulder.
"You know as well as I do. We've got to go someplace; anywhere to stayahead of the fire."
"Then jam the bus along as far as it will go," ordered the director.
"Who's going to pay for the damage?" demanded the driver.
"Never mind that," snapped Curt. "The first thing is to save our ownnecks. Then we'll worry about the bus."
"But I'll have to report what happened to the company."
"You'll be lucky to get back and make a report," retorted the cowboy.
They lurched into motion once more, traveling almost blindly now, andmuch slower.
Curt felt his way around clumps of underbrush and outcroppings of rock.The wind, swirling along with them, carried a heavy curtain of smoke.
They were rolling down a long slope when a front tire let go with anexplosion like that from a young cannon and Curt twisted desperately atthe wheel, fighting for control of the big vehicle. The driver jumped tohelp him and between the two of them they brought it to a halt withoutan upset.
Curt jumped out to survey the damage and returned almost at once.
"No chance of repairing the tire even if there was time," he announced."We'll see how much further we can go."
With both Curt and the bus driver clinging to the wheel, they startedon, though traveling at a painfully slow pace.
At the bottom of the valley they stopped, a thin ribbon of a streamblocking their way.
Once more the cowboy lunged out into the smoke-filled night to stampthrough the shallow waters of the stream. The bottom seemed fairly firmand Curt returned and took the wheel.
"We'll try to go through, but everyone unload. No use to carry anyexcess weight."
The entire company piled out of the bus and watched Curt start acrossthe stream. He made good progress, the front wheels climbing out on theother bank and for a moment it looked like he was going across. Then thesand gave way and the back wheels churned up a spray of sand and dirtywater.
Curt snapped off the ignition and jumped out of the bus.
"We're stalled for keeps," he informed them, "but this is about as gooda place as we'll find. We'll start backfires and then when it gets bad,we can get under a bank along this creek. There'll be water to help ushere."
Under Curt's dynamic orders, half a dozen backfires were started, themen working like mad to clear away the underbrush and destroy allinflammable material near the creek bank where they had decided to maketheir stand.
There was little that Janet and Helen could do, but they insisted onseizing old coats, wetting them in the stream, and using them to beatout the flames of the backfires when they had spread far enough.
The burned area widened rapidly, but Curt spurred his workers on withrenewed pleas and cajoling. One of the cameramen, slipping away to thebus for a minute, trained his camera on the scene and started grindingaway. The crest of the hill above them was now outlined in a strong,crimson and the shadowy forms of the workers were visible as theyhastened from one backfire to another. Janet saw the cameraman working,but she knew their work had progressed far enough so the absence of oneman would not make a great deal of difference. Then, too, she knew thathe might get some shots which would be invaluable in some film needinggood fire sequences.
; Fortunately the bank they had selected had been heavily undercut by thestream and would afford them protection. Curt set several of the men tothe task of digging further into the bank and they worked withimprovised tools taken from the bus.
Janet and Helen soaked the coats they had been using again and returnedto the task of beating down the backfires. Curt joined them for aminute.
"Better get back under the bank. This thing is going to come down thisslope like a hurricane," he warned.
"We'll wait until the others start down," said Janet, but he took theircoats and shoved them toward the creek.
"Get going," he ordered, and his voice was firm.
They obeyed, for already the fire was starting down the slope and thegirls hastened to the creek bed.
The water was shallow, not more than six inches deep in any place andthe bottom was sandy. Helen slipped off her torn shoes and wiggled hertoes in the cool luxury of the water. Just then she forgot to worry allabout the fire in the pleasant delight of having her feet comfortable ifeven for the moment.
Men who had been working on the backfires came tumbling over the bank,falling and splashing into the water, but no one minded being dirty orwet.
Janet could hear a roaring that sounded like the beat of scores ofkettle drums--a roaring that was increasing in intensity and furore.
Splashing along the sandy bottom, she came to a lower place in the bankwhere she could look up the slope.
A solid wall of flame topped the crest, then swept down with an amazingrapidity. The air was hot and searing like a blast from an over-heatedfurnace.
A handful of men were still grouped around Curt, working until the lastmoment to spread the backfire as far as possible.
Helen, padding through the shallow water, joined Janet and they watchedthe awesome scene together. The roar of the onrushing fire increased andwaves of heat beat against their faces. Janet knew that it must beterrific out on the slope and she wondered when Curt would lead his menin.
One of them, gasping and choking, ran toward the creek, lunged pastthem, and hurled himself face downward in the water.
Seconds later Janet heard Curt's cry and the rest of the men, with Curtand Billy Fenstow bringing up the rear, ran toward the creek bank.
The director stumbled and fell heavily and the cowboy bent down andpicked him up. Carrying the director in his arms, Curt, staggering underthe extra burden, ran on. One of the men leaped over the bank to helpand together they eased the little director into the water.
Curt turned instantly and watched the rushing flames. The roar was soloud now that it was impossible to communicate with one another exceptby shouting and Curt ran from one to another, shouting and pounding themdown under the bank where they would get the utmost protection.
Reaching out he jerked Janet and Helen sharply and jostled them underthe bank.
"Get under there and stay under. Put a wet cloth to your nose and mouth.Don't breath any more than you have to."
Neither one of them possessed handkerchiefs, for these articles had goneastray long before. One sleeve of Janet's dress had been ripped and shetore the whole thing out, ripped it again, and gave Helen one half ofit. They dipped the cloth in the creek, squeezed a little of the waterout, and applied the makeshift mask to their faces.
Burning brands, carried along by the wind, were dropping in the creeknow, hissing and sputtering as they struck the water where they soonbecame blackened embers.
Janet, turning toward the opposite bank, saw a clump of underbrush burstinto flame. The fire, whipped by the rising wind, spread out rapidly.Venturing a peep above the creek bank, a searing blast of heat struckher forehead and she could feel her hair curl. One glance was enough,for a towering wall of flame seemed to be rising straight into the sky.
Janet ducked back under the protection of the bank and dipped the clothinto the water again. She straightened up again and glanced toward thebus. The cameraman who had been grinding away steadily had deserted thebus and was dragging his camera with him. He reached the shelter of thebank and other willing hands helped him set up the machine in a positionthat was well protected.
It was impossible to hear now and Janet felt Helen crowding close towardher. They looked at each other through staring eyes--eyes that reflectedthe inward fear that gripped their hearts. The heat was stifling now.The cloths they had soaked with water were drying with incrediblerapidity and Janet remembered Curt's warning to breath as lightly aspossible. Helen, shoeless, was standing in the water. A hot emberdropped beside them and struck one of Helen's legs before it had cooled.She winced at the pain, but there was no escape.
It seemed as though the entire opposite slope of the valley suddenlyburst into flame and the intensity of the heat redoubled. Janet held herbreath and dipped down into the stream to wet the cloth again. Helen didlikewise a moment later and they gained some relief.
Billy Fenstow and Curt Newsom were crouched beside the cameraman who wasstill grinding away at the red terror.
Again the cloths on their faces dried and their breaths came in greatchoking gasps. Janet felt as though her heat-seared lungs would burst.She wanted to cry, but the tears were whipped away by the hot blasts.
The flame on the opposite slope seemed to reach a new peak of intensityand the water at their feet ran crimson. Then the roar lessened, thepeak of the fire was past.
Janet, through smoke-rimmed eyes, saw it sweep over the far crest of thevalley. Scattered fires were left burning in its wake, but the mainadvance of the fire had rushed on seeking new conquests.
As the red glow ebbed, they crept out from under the bank and droppedwith abandon into the shallow waters. It mattered little that embers,some of them still hot, were drifting in the stream, or that the wateritself was now lukewarm--it was a haven from the horror that had justpassed.
Janet Hardy in Radio City Page 9
