io6 North American Forests and Forestry 



made a hard fight for his property. But in vain ; 

 his cabin, with what little furniture he possessed, 

 with the family clothing and the provisions that 

 were to keep them alive, have been consumed 

 by the fire. With his little children on his arm, 

 followed by the older boys and the wife carrying 

 the baby, he trudges along the trail through the 

 hot, stifling, smoke-filled wood to the village. The 

 people of the town relieve the distress of their 

 stricken fellows and go to bed thanking God that 

 still they are safe. 



But there comes an evening when nobody thinks 

 of going to bed. All day the smoke has become 

 denser and denser, until it is no longer a haze, but a 

 thick, yellowish mass of vapor, carrying large parti- 

 cles of sooty cinders, filling one's eyes and nostrils 

 with biting dust, making breathing oppressive. 

 There is no escape from it. Closing windows and 

 doors does not bar it out of the houses ; it seems as 

 if it could penetrate solid walls. Everything it 

 touches feels rough, as if covered with fine ashes. 

 The heat is horrible, although no ray of sunshine 

 penetrates the heavy pall of smoke. 



In the distance a rumbling, rushing sound is 

 heard. It is the fire roaring in the tree tops on 

 the hillsides, several miles from town. This is no 

 longer a number of small fires, slowly smouldering 

 away to eat up a fallen log ; nor little, dancing 

 flames, running along the dry litter on the ground, 

 trying to creep up the bark of a tree, where the 

 lichens are thick and dry, but presently falling back 



