A FOREST- FIRE. 227 



by the boys who are fighting the flames. The cries 

 of wood-pigeons, partridges, black game, and pheas- 

 ants — to say nothing of jays and magpies, and the 

 scream of sparrow-hawk, with screech of missel-thrush 

 and ring-ouzel — mingled with roar and crackle of the 

 flames, make a most unearthly din ; while fern-fowls 

 fly and dart in all directions. Many, drawn by that 

 strange fascination which fire seems to have for wild 

 creatures, dart right into it to be killed at once ; their 

 light, loose plumage shares the fate of moths' wings. 

 Insect-collectors can keep away from this locality for 

 many a day to come. The peaty surface, for a long 

 distance, has become a mass of fire. 



Now loud shouts and sounds of horns tell of some 

 fresh misfortune. There is not the least hope of 

 confining the fire to the valley. Within half a mile 

 of the firs, which are now one mass of fire, there is 

 a vast cover composed of furze and ragged black 

 thorns. Between this and the blazing trees is a long 

 belt of heath. The woodmen do their best to keep this 

 from getting alight. All their force is gathered here. 

 Grimed all over, they look like giant goblins as they 

 ply axe and bill to fell the remaining trees not yet 

 caught. No use ! " Stand back for your lives, lads ; 



