Hunting the Prong-Buck 103 



the trail in time to get it past the fire before the 

 latter reached the divide, we would be to windward 

 of the flames, and therefore in safety. Accordingly, 

 while the others were hastily harnessing the team, 

 and tossing the bedding and provisions into the 

 wagon, I threw the saddle on my horse, and gal- 

 loped down the trail, to see if there was yet time to 

 adopt this expedient. I soon found that there was 

 not. Half a mile from camp the trail dipped into a 

 deep coulie, where fair-sized trees and dense under- 

 growth made a long winding row of brush and tim- 

 ber. The trail led right under the trees at the upper 

 end of this coulie. As I galloped by I saw that the 

 fire had struck the trees a quarter of a mile below 

 me ; in the dried timber it instantly sprang aloft like 

 a giant, and roared in a thunderous monotone as it 

 swept up the coulie. I galloped to the hill ridge 

 ahead, saw that the fire line had already reached the 

 divide, and turned my horse sharp on his haunches. 

 As I again passed under the trees, the fire, running 

 like a race-horse in the brush, had reached the road ; 

 its breath was hot in my face ; tongues of quivering 

 flame leaped over my head and kindled the grass on 

 the hillside fifty yards away. 



When I got back to camp Ferguson had taken 

 measures for the safety of the wagon. He had 

 moved it across the coulie, which at this point had 

 a wet bottom, making a bar to the progress of the 

 flames until they had time to work across lower 



