CHAPTER XIUII 
FIRE 
Au went well until Saturday—the end of the first 
week in our Hillsboro camp—when trouble broke 
from a clear sky. We had finished a rather hard 
day’s work and were in the act of sitting down to 
supper when the drumming of horse’s hoofs came 
to our ears. A moment later Reid, the fire guard, ap- 
proached at a gallop and drew up just long enough 
to shout: 
“‘Fire’s broke out on the north slope of Hillsboro 
Peak. It’s got away from me. I’ve phoned for men 
but they can’t get here till morning, so you fellows’ll 
have to come up to-night. There’s plenty of axes, 
hoes and gunny sacks, but we’ll need water. I’m 
going back to do what I can till you get there. 
Don’t lose any time—every minute now may save 
hours of work later!’’ 
Then, whirling about, he galloped off up the trail. 
The hasty summons of the guard materially al- 
tered our plans for the evening. Instead of a leis- 
urely supper and a comfortable loaf about the fire, 
with bed hovering pleasantly in the background, we 
saw before us a long night of heart-breaking toil by 
the red light of flames, a night such as haunts the 
86 
