364 WHEAT AND WOMAN 



we were almost abreast of the long, thin scarlet 

 line which ate its way across the biscuit-tinted 

 prairie and left in its wake stretching away back 

 to the southern hills of Fort Qu'Appelle a coal- 

 black waste, grim and lifeless save for a smouldering 

 bluff here and there where the fire had found food 

 for its tarrying. 



I remembered with relief that my nearest neigh- 

 bours on that side of the trail, who were Canadians, 

 had insured their homes against the danger of 

 prairie fire by firing the wide outskirt of their own 

 land, so that there was no necessity to turn back on 

 their account. I hurried along my way to encounter 

 smouldering and charred remains of fallen telegraph 

 posts barring my line. The single wire which runs 

 from South Qu'Appelle station to Prince Albert 

 was down. I stopped to consider. 



Not a breath of air stirred. The trees had only 

 just started to bud, but the golden sun blazed down 

 from a summer sky. Across the hills from the valley 

 below one caught a glimpse of the lake, with ice- 

 bound bosom still offering dumb resistance to the 

 challenge of the sun. The contrast was specially 

 unusual and fascinating to an Englishwoman. I 

 longed to draw nearer. My only danger lay in the 

 chance of the fire leaping the trail, and the odds of 

 that chance with the wind right down lay at a 

 hundred to one against. I went on. 



At the top of the hill I perceived with dismay 

 that the fire had leapt the trail and was travelling 

 backwards towards the cemetery. I hurried on my 

 way to carry the news of the danger to Fort 

 Qu'Appelle, but it proved to be no news to the 

 usually sleepy little town that dozes in the heart of 



