Chapter Ten
A WELCOME RESCUE
Janet couldn't even guess how many minutes they rested on the stream bedwith the water washing away the aches in their weary bodies. As usual,Curt took the initiative when he had regained a portion of the abundantvitality that flowed through his veins.
The cowboy sat up and surveyed the scene. A dozen fires were stillburning in the valley and the horizon ahead of them, tinged in crimson,marked the passing of the fire demon.
Billy Fenstow, digging sand out of his ears and sputtering heartily, wasthe first to speak.
"Curt, how in thunder are we ever going to get out of here?"
The cowboy shook his head.
"Walk," he moaned, looking down at the once fancy boots which had neverbeen intended for the heavy work in which they had been used that night.
Billy Fenstow groaned in anguish.
"Then I guess I'll just settle down and wait for a flood to come alongand wash me down the valley or until I come to some culvert where I'llstick."
The cameraman who had ground away steadily through the thick of theraging flames crept over to his machine. It had been subject to terrificheat and there was only a small chance that the negative had comethrough without serious damage.
"How many feet did you shoot?" asked the director.
The photographer squinted at the footage indicator on the camera, butthere was not enough light to note the figures.
"If the film isn't ruined they'll be the best scenes of a blaze likethis that have ever been filmed," he predicted.
Janet struggled into a sitting position and looked around. Her eyessought the bus, with only faint hopes that the vehicle had come throughunscathed. If it had, it would offer their one hope of escape for shefelt that repairs might be made to the tires and if not, maybe theycould limp along.
But her hopes were doomed to disappointment. The bus was a glowing massof steel. Fire had swept over it, igniting the upholstery and burningout the entire interior of the bus. It was a hollow shell with gapingwindows.
Curt Newsom stood up.
"There's no use sitting around here wondering what we'll do," he said."If a couple of the boys will come along, I'll start back to the trailand we'll keep going until we find someone or can reach a telephone."
Two other cowboys joined Curt.
"The rest of you might follow us and get back as far as the ranch. Maybethere'll be a little drinking water left in that well," advised Curt ashe started up the trail, hobbling painfully on his twisted boots.
Helen looked at her oxfords. They were in even worse shape than Curt'sboots.
"I guess I'll have to stay here," she said, half to herself and half toJanet. "I'd never make it back to the ranch."
Janet picked up the water soaked piece of cloth she had used as a maskto shield her face.
"Wrap this around one foot and use your piece for your other foot. Thenslip your oxford on loosely. That ought to ease the pain."
Helen looked grateful and tried the suggestion at once. She wrapped thedamp cloth around as tightly as possible and then pulled on her shoes.It was a snug fit, but there was a soft cushion for her bruised feet torest upon. She stood up and tried walking.
"That's much better. Thanks a lot, Janet."
Billy Fenstow took charge then.
"We'll start for the ranch and go as far as we can," he decided. "Theremay be some shelter there and we're in no condition to stay out anylonger than necessary."
With the director in the van, the singed and tired band started back forthe ranch. After a short distance they struck the trail. It was faint,but they managed to follow it without too much difficulty.
Hot blasts of air seemed to sweep down from all sides and breathingbecame a painful exercise again. Janet wished that she might have justone cool, sweet breath of air--just one.
Helen stumbled and Janet reached out and caught her companion before shefell.
"All right?" asked Janet anxiously, for Helen was not of as sturdy stockas she.
"I'll make it," replied Helen, the words coming from tight-set lips.
But Janet was not so sure that Helen could do it. They fell further andfurther behind the others, but at last they topped the final ridge andlooked down in the valley where the ranch had been, where they hadfilmed so many scenes of "Water Hole," the new picture.
It was too dark to see the outlines of the ranchhouse but Janet coulddiscern several large, glowing piles of embers and she knew that eventhe buildings at the ranch had been destroyed by the fire. Perhaps thewell was still filled with pure sweet water. Her throat seemed drier atthe thought and she turned her full attention to Helen, who needed asupporting arm for the final, down hill lap of their journey.
The cowboys were the first to reach the ranchyard and Janet could hearthem ripping the cover off the well. There was a shout ahead of them.
"The water's okay. Hurry up!" It was one of the cowboys, and the newsgave them the courage to quicken their lagging steps.
Billy Fenstow handed Janet a blackened dipper, but she insisted thatHelen take the first drink. There was plenty of water and they all dranktheir fill while Billy Fenstow scrambled around the timbers above thewell hunting for the wires which had been fastened to the filmcontainers they had lowered into the well. He found them at last, butdecided they were safer in the water than any place else.
"What about going on?" asked one of the cowboys.
"No use in that. Someone had used the dipper before we got here, so thatmeans Curt is up ahead of us and he's traveling much faster than wecould. We'll do better to wait right here where they'll find us. Try andmake yourselves comfortable."
But the director's last words were of little help. The air was still dryand searing and there was no shelter anywhere. Fires still glowed allover the valley and little clouds of smoke swept around them.
Janet and Helen walked over to the ranchhouse, but the embers wereglowing so brightly that it was impossible to get very close.
"I ache all over," confessed Helen. "When I finally get into bed I'mgoing to sleep the clock around."
"Count me in on that program," nodded Janet. "Well, we might as well sitdown and keep as comfortable as possible."
But they went back to the well for another drink before trying to relaxon the ground.
The men were gathered a short distance away, talking in low voices abouttheir harrowing escape. They conversed in monotones that soon lulled thegirls' tired minds and before she knew it Janet found herself dozing.They were fitful little naps, broken with sudden thoughts of the fire.Then she would snap to complete wakefulness, only to have her fatigueovercome her again. She had dozed perhaps half a dozen times when theincreasing chill of the air awakened her.
Helen, curled up on the ground, was breathing steadily and deeply andhad not noticed the change in the atmosphere.
Janet scanned the horizon. There was no scarlet in the northwestnow--only a dense blackness that seemed to be growing thicker. Thesoutheastern sky was still vividly flame seared.
The men had ceased their talking, but an occasional glow of a cigarettemarked the dark huddle where they had gathered. A slight snore could beheard and Janet attributed it to their tubby little director. A flash oflightning illumined the mounting clouds and Janet shivered at thethought of a storm sweeping down on them after the fire.
Helen must have felt the shiver run through Janet's body for she stirredsleepily.
"I'll sleep another hour," she mumbled, and Janet knew her companionthought they were back home. There was no need to awaken Helen now. Shemight just as well get as much relaxation as possible.
Helen slipped back into a deep sleep and Janet kept a lone vigil. Theclouds swept higher and a distant rumble of thunder came down from thehills.
The men were moving restlessly now and Janet could hear Billy Fenstowberating the weather. But there was nothing they could do about itexcept complain a little and then hope that someone would reach thembefore the coming storm broke.
/> Janet wondered how far Curt and the two cowboys who had gone with himhad been able to travel. Perhaps their aching feet had forced them tostop. But, knowing Curt, she had a feeling that he would get through andbring help to them as soon as possible.
Helen sat up, rubbing her blood-shot eyes.
"More fire?" she asked as the rumble of the thunder smote her ears.
"Well, not quite that bad. Just a thunderstorm."
Helen shivered. "We'll catch our death of cold," she groaned, and Janethad to admit that Helen's fears were not unwarranted. After the heat ofthe fire and the fatigue, they would be excellent candidates for severecolds or anything else that happened along.
Several of the men who had been hunting around the ranchyard returned tothe well.
"Can't even find half a board," one of them reported. "The fire swepteverything clean."
Billy Fenstow turned to Janet and explained.
"I had a couple of the boys out looking for some boards or anything wecould use to build a shelter for you girls."
"That was thoughtful," replied Janet, "but we'll get along all right."
Billy grumbled to himself. He wasn't so sure. The girls had stood a lotalready and there was a limit to their endurance.
A patter of rain struck them, the drops sizzling as they came down onthe remains of the ranchhouse.
Janet's spirits dropped and for the first time in weeks she felt likehaving a good, old-fashioned crying spell, but there wasn't any pillowwhere she could bury her head and she didn't want to cry in front of themen in the company.
The valley was hushed for a moment. Even the thunder was silent in thebreathless pause that often comes just before a mid-summer storm ventsits fury.
It was during this pause that Helen, watching the hills below the stormclouds, caught a flash of light. It was too low for lightning and shegripped Janet's right arm.
"There's a car coming!" she cried.
Janet turned hopefully and looked in the direction Helen pointed, butthere was no sign of light and she heard an involuntary sob escape fromHelen.
Then it came again, two twin beams of light cutting around a hill. Helenwas right! A car was coming and Janet, unashamed, felt the tears flowingfreely down her cheeks.
Billy Fenstow was talking to himself.
"I knew that lanky cowboy would do it," he said, repeating it over andover as though he were a human talking machine, stuck on a single note.
A horn sounded a warning note as the oncoming vehicle swung into theranchyard just as the sky opened and the first sweep of rain struck thevalley. Forgetting all else, they ran toward the machine, which provedto be a hulking truck, with a covered top.
Janet and Helen reached the rear. Someone reached down and pulled themunder the shelter of the top. A flashlight blazed into their faces and astrong arm encircled Janet's shoulder. It was Helen's father and theyknew that their worries for that eventful night were over.
Janet Hardy in Radio City Page 10
