THREE MILES OF FLAME 



A CROSS-COUNTRY RIDE AND THREE DAYS OF WORK WITH A 



FIRE WARDEN IN NEW ENGLAND 



By Allen Chamberlain 



["I would like to establish the fact that all the picturesqueness and all the heroism in 

 forest fire fighting isn't confined to the West," wrote Mr. Chamberlain in contributing this 

 story. "During the drought this autumn there was a deuce of a fire in the Berkshire 

 country that narrowly escaped developing into a calamity. I have attempted to relate in 

 short story form the cold, hard and wholly unadorned facts concerning that fire." Editor.] 



"J J ELLO, warden! Back home towns, communities big in land area, 

 again, are you? Then all this but little in point of population and 



H 



smoke doesn't mean that the financial means. In these places, where 

 woods are still afire back in every man is a farmer, all hands are 

 the hills?" busy at this season trying to get in 

 "Well, all I can say is that, so far as their harvest, but when fire comes they 

 I know, the fires in this district are out, must drop these private affairs to fight 

 or under control. Perhaps I'd better the common enemy. In a little town 

 knock on wood, though, for something with a mere handful of voters it isn't 

 may start at any minute with the coun- possible to "let George" do these things. 

 try as tinder dry as it is right now. All the "Georges" have to turn out, 

 If I could see a sprinkle of rain I'd turn and if any hang back without good 

 in for a solid twenty-four hours of cause the law provides a substantial 

 snooze. 'Believe me,' I could give the penalty. Besides it isn't healthy to be 

 finest imitation of a man sleeping that unneighborly in such matters in a small 

 ever was. In the last three days Jim town. The neighbors aren't numerous 

 and I have managed to edge in just enough to hide behind, and the shirker 

 about one night's sleep. Oh, yes, this "gets in wrong" with everybody for 

 fire warden business is a cinch when miles around. How those farmers 

 it's raining." hated the sight of an automobile. Too 

 In seven weeks there had been no often the passage of one through some 

 rain in the hills oh, perhaps what the piece of woods meant a call to the fire 

 Weather Bureau calls "a trace," a mere line within an hour, the result of a heed- 

 dew but no real rain. It was as dry less smoker and his match or cigar 

 as a California summer, and yet it was stub. And the gunners were no less 

 October in New England. No rain, unpopular for the same reason, 

 and persistent summer temperatures, On this particular balmy October 

 made golden weather for pleasure parties evening, when the deputy warden of 

 out to see the autumn color on hill and District 6 drove his dusty little run- 

 dale. Then, too, the shooting season about into the home yard, he and his 

 had just begun, opening on a holiday, helper had spent the best part of a 

 which meant that thousands of men week chasing fires from one end of the 

 and boys with guns and matches had district to the other. Fifteen hundred 

 taken to the bush for one glorious day square miles is a tidy little area to have 

 of killing. to keep an eye on, and when seventy- 

 It had been a worrisome seven weeks five per cent of it is forest land, with 

 for every fire warden, and the State plenty of slash-covered wood and timber 

 warden and his district deputies had lots sprinkled through, and the whole 

 lived a busy life chasing hither and yon territory standing on end in hills and 

 at the summons of the local officials small mountains up to three thousand 

 who needed aid or advice, for there was feet in elevation, a man has to be 

 scarce a town that did not have its definitely "on to his job" in a dangerous 

 daily blaze. But mostly these district fire time, and without much regard for 

 men were needed in the remote hill three meals a day and slumber. 

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