by Sophie May
CHAPTER X
THE LAST RUN OF THE BELOVED THIRTY
A second time Phil loudly called and now an answer showed Nels Andersonand the golfing man to be near the edge of the woods. They had completedthe burning of a wide strip of the dry grass completely around theclearing, only to find their work useless. All hope of thus stopping thespread of the fire toward the buildings was destroyed by the fallingembers. The wind carried them everywhere.
There was no time to lose. The danger of death from suffocation, evenif the flames could be escaped, was very great. Now the roof of thehouse was on fire. There was not a barrel of water within miles. Furtherfighting, further loss of time, would be folly. Giants of the forest wereflaming up from roots to topmost branch not twenty yards within thewoods. The whole roadway would be ablaze, on both sides, in a few minutes.
A most pitiable object was Anderson's poor cow. Her head to the groundas if to escape the smoke, a low, frightened bellowing told of herrealization of the danger. Forgetful of herself the child was saying, "Oh,poor, good bossy! Oh, poor bossy!"
The small haystack along side the crude, log barn suddenly blazed up. Thedull red glow gave place to a white light all through the clearing. Itwas impossible now that any part of the property could be saved. Andersonand the other man came running to the car.
"It will be a close shave! Can you make it, boys?" cried the one in thegolf cap, above the roar of the flames.
"You bet! Be at the lake in no time! We've often carried more'n six,"yelled Paul excitedly. "Right in here!" and he held the tonneau door openwide. "You in front with Phil, Mr. Anderson!"
Even as Jones followed Mrs. Anderson, the little girl and the golfingman into the tonneau, and slammed the door behind him, the Thirty wasunder way. Its staunch gears were never before so quickly shifted from lowto high. What mattered it if Paul did sit down hard in the strange man'slap? What mattered it if poor Nels, unused to automobiles, was jerkednearly from his seat before he got his great, clumsy legs quite inside?The raging sea of fire was bordering the trail ahead, and hundreds oflittle tongues of flames leaped here and there in the parched, dry grassand weeds in the road itself.
With frightened, staring eyes Paul looked with wonder upon the dreadfulflames leaping from one treetop to another. The man beside him wasshielding his face from the terrible glare and heat and the woman andlittle girl clung tightly to each other, the former watching only thechild and holding a hand to protect her face. As if dazed and unable tocomprehend, Nels Anderson looked always back toward the doomed clearing.
Phil Way alone watched the road ahead. With firm set jaw and strainingeyes he looked ever forward through the blinding glare and the billowsof smoke that now and again concealed the trail completely. But hishands gripped the wheel with perfect confidence, his foot pressed theaccelerator steadily. The gallant car responded. The ground seemedspeeding from under its wheels. On and on it flew.
Thus far the fire had raged to the west of the road only. In but a fewplaces had it reached the trees directly beside the trail, pausing theretill some fresh gust of wind, or shower of sparks, carried it to the otherside.
But now Phil saw before him a spot where on both sides of the road theforest was a flaming furnace. He did not falter. On flew the car. Anothermoment and it was in the midst of the fire. A hundred yards it ranthrough the deadly heat, the awful roar and sheets of flame leaping upwardand outward till their fiery fingers were all but seizing the brave ladand his passengers.
Safely the Thirty ran the fearful gauntlet. There came a shout of praiseand admiration from the golfing man, words of thanksgiving from the woman.The worst was over.
Rapidly, but not so fast as in the direct course of the wind, the firewas reaching out toward Opal Lake. Like a galloping army it came on behindthe car, but, barring accident, could never, would never, overtake theswift machine.
Barring accident! Bravely the engine, clutch, gears, springs, axles andwheels had withstood the strain of the terrific speed, the heavy loadand the wretched road. Bravely, with every charge of gas, each cylinderdelivered generous power.
The car shot down the grade into the small valley where, some distancebelow, the gravel road came to its abrupt ending. There was a heavy joltas the front wheels struck the dry bed of the shallow stream.
Anderson, the giant, pitched forward. He might have caught and rightedhimself quite readily had he had complete use of his hands and arms, longsince partially paralyzed; but in his disabled condition he missed thewindshield frame he tried to catch, and went partly overboard.
With his left hand Phil Way reached for his falling passenger, stillholding the wheel with his right. He seized poor Anderson just in time,but the great bulk of the fellow drew him partly from his own seat, andpulled the steering wheel sharply round.
Still going at speed, though now on the upward grade, the automobileanswered instantly to the call of the steering knuckles--true to itsmechanism, perfectly, to the last--answered to the driver's unintendedcommand, and sharply swerved to the right. A large pine stood in itscourse.
So quickly did the collision occur, so unprepared were any of theautomobile's occupants to meet the terrible shock that the escape of allfrom serious injury was truly miraculous. The outcome must surely havebeen far worse had the tree been struck squarely head-on. The fact ofthe fender and right front tire and wheel receiving the heaviest forceof the impact lessened the jar, and the car swung around spendingbroken momentum in the dishing of both rear wheels.
Nels Anderson, pitched far out on the ground, was gathered up cut andbleeding. Mrs. Anderson and the child were bruised but not much hurt.Phil, Paul and the golfing man suffered no injuries beyond the nervousshock.
Strange as it may seem, Paul Jones spoke not a word. Questioningly helooked at Way.
Phil had been first to help Anderson to his feet. Now leaving him to thecare of the others he quickly inspected the damage done to the machine.The roar of the flames was still just behind. Their blood-red glare cast atwilight glow far ahead through the darkness of the woods.
"She was a mighty good car," said Phil Way, softly, as if to himself,quite as one might speak of some friend who has gone. "A mighty goodcar!" but at the same moment his gaze took in the flames fast followingalong the ground and from tree to tree both west and south. Even herethe heat and smoke were terrible. The dull red light was everywhere. Thevery sky seemed ablaze.
"This is most unfortunate. I'm truly sorry for this, boys," spoke thegolfing man, very soberly. He too had been hastily investigating thedamage.
Though his voice was kind, the speaker irritated Paul Jones exceedingly."Wouldn't have happened but for you, and except to send you to prison youaren't worth it, I can tell you that, Mr. Grandall," were the words hethought, but did not utter.
"Might have been worse! We're still a mile from the lake and the fire'sjust behind us! That's the whole answer," said Phil rapidly. His wordswere in reply to the stranger's sympathetic expression, but were equallyaddressed to all. "Right ahead on this trail, then! We've a raft that willhold everyone!"
Rapid movement was necessary. The wind was blowing furiously now. No poweron earth could stay the flames that swept ever forward. Their path grewconstantly wider.
Both Phil and Paul looked with astonishment to see the stranger, whom theynow detested more than ever, seize Anderson's little girl in his arms tocarry her; but they were all hastening forward through the crimson light,and clouds of smoke. No more than a glance could the boys exchange.
Many times the two lads looked back. It was fortunate, perhaps, that therise of the ground soon shut off their view of the prized Thirty. Thehungry, sweeping flames came curling, playing, leaping, dancing, roaringon. They reached the car.
Phil remembered, long afterward, that as he stepped out of the automobilefor the last time he noticed the speedometer, twisted about so that thelight of a lamp shattered and broken, but still burning, fell upon it.The reading was 5,599 miles--the record of the season.
Sa
fely ahead of the fire the fleeing refugees reached Opal Lake. With aglad shout, though their faces showed deepest anxiety and fear, BillyWorth and Chip Slider received them.
"The raft's all ready! I've made it big enough to float a house! All ourprovisions are on board, too!" said Billy to Phil, the moment he ran up."Where's the car?"
A few words told the story. There was no comment beyond the quick, "Oh!what an escape!"
The snaky tongues of fire coming on swift, almost, as the wind itself,were but two hundred yards away when the rescuers and rescued embarkedupon the raft. Boxes and camp equipage afforded seats. Billy had trimmeda couple of extra long poles with which to move the clumsy craft, andpresent safety for all was assured.
The dawn was just breaking. Once out on the water the coming daylight wasquite clear despite the smoke that in vast clouds rolled swiftly over,whipped and torn by the wind.
"Thank goodness there's no fire to the north--not yet anyway," saidPhil rubbing his face, grimy with smoke and ashes. He was thinking ofMacLester and for the information of the Andersons briefly told of Dave'sunaccountable disappearance.
"There's a long stretch of pine on the other side," said the stranger,still wearing his golfing cap, by the way. "There are a couple of streamsthere, though, both of them flowing into the lower end of the lake. Ifyour friend is lost and should remember that, he could follow either oneof them and not come out wrong."
Dave was more than merely lost, Paul thought and said so. And, "You knowthis country pretty well," he added, addressing the former speaker. "Youbelonged to the Longknives," he went on rather tartly. "It will be thelast of the old clubhouse."
"Yes, one blot will be wiped out. It is only too bad that so much that isgood must go with it."
Paul glanced at Phil and his eyes also met Billy's. The man's words werepuzzling.
"We saw--" Paul began, but a shout interrupted him--
"_There's_ Dave! There's Dave now and some man with him!" yelled ChipSlider suddenly. His voice was like a burst of ecstasy. His eyes scanningthe distant shore, he had instantly caught sight of the two hats waved asa signal.
The joy of the three chums, that the fourth member of their almostinseparable quartette was safe and sound, it would take pages to describe.With the most delighted waving of his own hat, Phil shouted to MacLesterabout the skiff still moored on the north shore. His voice was lost inthe roar of the wind and the flames now sweeping very near the water'sedge. By signals, however, he quickly made Dave understand and thelatter and the man with him were seen to hurry forward to where theboat was tied.
All the time the golfing man watched MacLester and the person with himkeenly. "Impossible!" he muttered at last. "I thought for a moment I knewthe old chap your friend seems to have in tow."
But it was not impossible, apparently, for even before MacLester andhis chums could exchange greetings, as the skiff drew near, the small,elderly man in the stern of the boat cried: "Oh! 'tis there ye air then,Mr. Beckley! Oh, ho! hurray! I dunno!" A laugh that was equally like a sobaccompanied the words, and "Oh, ho! oh, ho! I dunno!" the old fellowcried again and again.
"It's 'Daddy' O'Lear, right from my own home," the golfing man explainedbriefly.
The three boys again exchanged quick glances. Instantly as he heard thename "Beckley" Phil had remembered the initial B on the shaving cup foundin the clubhouse. Was the man trying to carry on a deception even asto his name, and at such a time, his thoughts inquired. No, he quicklydecided, there was some mistake.
"I do hope it may be no bad news he may be sent with, Meester Beckley,"said Mrs. Anderson. She had been sitting silent on one of the boxes Billyprovided, the little girl leaning on her knees. All the Andersons hadwatched the fire constantly, their heavy hearts revealed in their sadfaces.
"I--I think not," spoke the man in a puzzled way, glancing toward the firenow almost bursting through the shore line.
"It will be hot here, and dangerous," said Phil, looking in the samedirection. "We must shove down the lake. Our poles won't reach to goout farther. The water's too deep. We'll lie off opposite the marsh nearthe Point."
Shouting to the approaching boat to follow, Way and Billy slowly pushedtheir heavy craft to the west. The skiff overtook them easily and quickly.
"Hello!" grinned Paul Jones as Dave faced quickly about when the boatcame alongside. But his half-jocular tone fell on ears attuned to seriousmatters.
"Oh! this is a terrible thing," said MacLester, his eyes fixed on theflood of flames.
"I was never so glad as I am this minute! What in the world happened toyou, Dave? But never mind; you're safe now," Way answered with emphasis.
Somehow all felt it was no time for conversation. Dave made no response toPhil's question. But Billy Worth--Chef Billy--remembered one thing.
"Have you had anything to eat?" he demanded. "I'll bet you haven't!"
"Mighty little--either of us," was the answer. "We were lost,--just about."
"Here's something!" and Worth drew a basket out from beneath a blanket."Guess we'll all feel better for a bite of breakfast," he added.
Crackers, cheese, bread and butter and bananas were in the "ship'sstores," as Billy expressed it, and there was enough for all.
The simple matter of eating served not only to relieve hunger but gave allpresent a sense of better acquaintance and far greater freedom in talkingwith one another.
"'Tis an awful waste of wood, sure!" said Mr. O'Lear.
Obviously he referred to the fire. The flames now swept the shore linefrom the Point to the lake's eastern boundary. For miles upon miles theforest was a whirlwind of furiously roaring flames, or a desolate wasteof blazing wreckage, smoldering stumps and blackened, leafless tree trunks.
"The clubhouse! The roof has caught!" cried Billy Worth suddenly. "Andlook! It's a man!--two men, on the porch roof!" he yelled.
"Great heavens! it's Lew Grandall!" cried the stranger on the raft. "Andthe other man! They're fighting!"
"It's Murky! The other one is Murky!" Paul's sharp voice fairly shrieked."It's the suit-case! They have the suit-case! Murky's trying to get itaway from him!"
"Oo--ho there!" shouted the golfing man with all his force. "Get to theground! The fire's all around you! Get into the lake quick or you're deadmen!"
For an instant the two who fiercely struggled on the small balcony seemedto answer to the voice. Grandall would have leaped, it was apparent, butthe other seized him furiously, and drew him forcibly back. Then a thickburst of smoke concealed them both.
