Destruction and Deterioration 109 



to the tamarack swamp along the shore. A boy 

 has been down there and reports that there is some 

 fire in the swamp, but otherwise the road is clear. 

 Horses are being hitched up, wagons loaded with 

 household stuff, everything brought into readiness 

 to take flight to the comparative safety of the hard- 

 wood tract. If that also should succumb to the 

 fire, then there will be no safety except in the lake. 

 From the west, the wind brings the fire nearer and 

 nearer. It does not travel fast like the sweep of a 

 prairie fire. There is something horrible in the 

 slow, steady approach of a top fire. It comes on 

 with the pitiless determination of unavoidable des- 

 tiny, not faster, perhaps, than a man can walk. 

 But there is no stopping it. You can fight a ground 

 fire, by trying to beat it out with brush, or throw- 

 ing earth upon it. You cannot fight a fire that 

 seizes tree top after tree top, far above your reach, 

 and showers down upon the pygmy mortals that 

 attempt to oppose it an avalanche of burning 

 branches, driving them away to escape the torture 

 and death that threatens them. 



By midnight the fire has reached the village. 

 The first houses, standing as they do in the midst 

 of forest trees on their lots that were partially 

 cleared but a few months ago, are quickly consumed. 

 Each man in the village is straining every nerve to 

 protect the houses which at each particular moment 

 are most in immediate danger. But all is without 

 avail. Building after building is rapidly turned 

 into a smoking pile of ashes. The heat, the smoke. 



