THREE MILES OF FLAME 



65 



It looked a little like rain, and there 

 was no wind. The chances for at least 

 one night of sleep seemed hopeful. 

 That day they had taken a look at two 

 town crews that were fighting fair-sized 

 blazes, and had spotted and stamped 

 out three small fires all by themselves, 

 just as an incident of the road. Small 

 wonder that they were ready to stop a 

 spell. 



"Run the go-cart into the shed, Jim, 

 and tank her up with gas and water for 

 luck. And you better hitch on that 

 extra fire pump, too. It might be 

 handy sometime. Then come in and 

 we'll pick up a bite and take a turn at 

 that sleep act. Be sure the lamps are 

 o.k." 



What a relief to get home and to get 

 a real wash-up and a square meal. It 

 was the next thing to luxury. 



"Now, Jim, who says that there 

 aren't compensations in a warm, dry 

 Fall? Just look at that dish of green 

 corn. I didn't really expect that last 

 planting to come to anything, but there 

 it is, so 'go to it.' 'It's an ill wind that' 

 Drat that 'phone! Half a mind not 

 to answer it." 



But as he said it he was across the 

 room in a jump and taking down the 

 receiver. 



"Hello! Yep, I'm the feller. Whose 

 this ? Oh, hello chief. Why, pretty fair, 

 thanks. Not scorched yet, anyhow. 

 Maple Mountain, did you say? Run- 

 ning toward the State reservation? I 

 see. Yep. All right. We'll trot right 

 over. Good-night." 



"Well, Jim, we'll finish our supper, 

 if you don't mind, but that sleep will 

 have to be 'continued in our next.' That 

 was the chief. The reservation com- 

 missioners have wired him that Maple 

 Mountain is all afire, and that it's Tun- 

 ing straight for Whitetop. Why, there 

 aren't two dozen men in that whole 

 town, and they don't own a pump, or 

 an extinguisher, or anything else to 

 fight with. By, George! Just in the 

 nick. Here's a waybill for some new 

 fire pumps just in. Hike over and tease 

 Jerry to open the express office and let 

 you have those guns. Tell him it's an 

 emergency. I'll chase you over with 

 the car in a jiffy." 



It was one of those nights known as 



"pitch dark" when stars don't seem to 

 count. A merry prospect lay before 

 the warden and his man, for it was full 

 fifty miles across the hills, and over 

 some of the roughest back country 

 roads in the State, to reach that fire. 

 By the time the new pumps were un- 

 packed and lashed to the car it was past 

 ten o'clock. 



For a couple of miles they tore along 

 the river road at good speed, and then 

 began the tedious climb of a ten-mile hill, 

 a steady grind of 100 feet in the mile, 

 with many a stretch much stiffer. The 

 men who settled those townships in 

 Revolutionary days aimed at the sum- 

 mits of the long glacial ridges, and ran 

 their roads straight for the goal and 

 across, and quite regardless of grades. 

 At the little hamlet stranded upon the 

 Crest, two thousand feet above the sea, 

 the car shot along the ridge, and then 

 down the long "ladder" on the northern 

 side into the valley of another river. A 

 few miles of relatively level road across 

 the bottom land, and again the car was 

 thrust against the contours, straight for 

 the mountain and the fire. Shortly 

 after midnight, as they skirted the 

 flank of the mountain, the blaze ap- 

 peared above them, a continuous line 

 of fire the entire length of the three 

 mile long ridge. 



It had been a wild Paul Revere sort 

 of a ride across the dark, but even with 

 the goal not only in sight, but right at 

 hand, the riding was not yet over. 

 The local warden must first be found, 

 for although the towns like to have 

 State aid in their times of trouble and 

 distress, the dignity of their local 

 sovereignty may not be ruthlessly 

 transgressed nor overlooked by the 

 officers of the State. It was one in the 

 morning when they whirled into the 

 little village center, and stopped in the 

 yard of the local warden. 



"Must be they're all out on the fire 

 line, or else Hello, here comes a light !" 



It was the warden himself, and so 

 dead beat and weary that he could bare- 

 ly keep his eyes propped. No, he didn't 

 think anyone was on the line tonight. 

 The fire had fought them to a standstill. 

 Every man Jack was "all in." Couldn't 

 get any outside help, and the town men 

 were simply worn out after two whole 



