BURNING GRASS. 269 



ing ahead of us, and as the wind was from the 

 south-east, and the grass we were treading was still 

 unburned, there could be no doubt it was coming our 

 way, and between us and our destination. '' This fire 

 no good," said Moloka. "No want to go back now. 

 Come quick, may be fire no burn near water." Five 

 minutes had scarce passed when we found ourselves 

 within some fifty yards of a long line of burning grass, 

 roaring, cracking, and extending up through the 

 forest to the right, as far as the eye could reach, from 

 the very water's edge. It was rather an awkward 

 position to be placed in, and I confess that I was 

 at a loss to know what to do, when Moloka said we 

 should all cut long boughs and beat it out. This 

 idea never would have struck me. Every man quickly 

 provided himself with a bough some twelve feet long, 

 with a good tuft of leaves on the end, and, headed by 

 Moloka and myself, the whole party went straight at 

 the fire. The heat was absolutely scorching as we ap- 

 proached the flames. Beating down the burning grass 

 before us, we dodged about here and there, as best 

 we could ; and though the depth of the line of fire 

 was little more than seven or eight yards, we were 

 nearly suffocated, as well as half roasted, when we got 

 to the other side. 



The tail of Chippootoola's shirt (the only article 

 of clothing he had on), caught fire, and it was most 

 ludicrous to see him endeavouring to get it off. Every- 

 one else was too busy on his own behalf to assist him, 

 till his roars for help brought Moloka and myself, in 

 fits of laughter, to the rescue, when he was soon di- 

 vested of the covering, though not until the poor 



