FIRE ON THE MOUNTAINS. 73 



began to advance along the bank. However, this 

 achieved Young Oregon plunged into the stream, and 

 waded in, waist-deep. Flygrass, who had broken from 

 my hand during the race, came in ahead of the cimaron, 

 which was slightly singed as the fire reached the bank. 

 I jumped from my horse, drew Fondle into the water, 

 remounted young Oregon, taking my pet in my arms, and 

 leading the old mule, descended the stream to the plain. 

 On each side of me, the ground was a sheet of flame, and 

 the heat and smoke nearly overcame me. It was a struggle 

 for life, however, and at length, I stood upon the prairie, 

 where the herbage was so short, that the fire could take 

 no hold. There I felt safe and took advantage of my 

 situation to view the awful scene around me. 



The mountains themselves being invisible, the air, from 

 the ground where I stood, appeared a mass of fire, and 

 huge crescents of flame danced, as it were, in the very 

 sky, until a mass of timber, blazing at once, exhibited the 

 gloomy back ground of the rocky range. The bottom 

 was like a lake of fire, while above it rolled vast clouds 

 of black smoke. Here and there, antelopes and cimaron 

 appeared, so frightened, that they rushed directly into the 

 jaws of the devouring element, and perished. Some of 

 these animals, partly scorched, scampered away over the 

 plain, followed by flocks of wolves, who narrowly escaping 

 themselves, seemed resolved that the poor antelopes 



7 



