Bear Brownie: The Life of a BearRobinson, Harry Perry
General
Bear Brownie: The Life of a Bear
Robinson, Harry Perry
Bears -- Fiction
Had we not been out in the middle of the pool, we must have perished.
The fire was on both sides of the stream--indeed, as we learned later,
it reached for many miles on both sides, and where there was only the
usual width of water the flames joined hand across it and swept up the
stream in one solid wall. Where we were was the whole width of the
pool, while, besides, the beavers had cut down the larger trees
immediately near the water, so there was less for the fire to feed upon.
But even so I did not believe that we could come through alive. It was
impossible to open my eyes above water, and the hot air scorched my
throat. There was nothing for it but to keep my head under water and
hold my breath as long as I could, then put my nose out just enough to
breathe once, and plunge it in again. How long that went on I do not
know, but it seemed to me ages; though the worst of it can only have
lasted for minutes. But at the end of those minutes all the water in
that huge pool was hot.
I saw my father raising his head and shoulders slowly out of the water
and beginning to look about him. That gave me courage, and I did the
same. The first thing that I realized was that the roaring was less
loud, and then, though it was still almost intolerably hot, I found that
it was possible to keep one's head in the open air and one's eyes open.
Looking back, I saw that the line of flame had already swept far away,
and was even now surmounting the top of the next high ridge; and it was,
I knew, at that moment devouring the familiar cedars by our home, just
as it had devoured the trees on either side of the beavers' pool. On all
sides of us the bigger trees were still in flames, and from everywhere
thick white smoke was rising, and over all the mountain-side, right down
to the water's edge, there was not one green leaf or twig. Everything
was black. The brushwood was completely gone. The trees were no more
than bare trunks, some of them still partially wreathed in flames. The
whole earth was black, and from every side rose columns and jets and
streams of smoke. It seemed incredible that such a change could have
been wrought so instantaneously. It was awful. Just a few minutes and
what had been a mountain-side clothed in splendid trees, making one
dense shield of green, sloping down to the bottom-land by the stream,
with its thickets of undergrowth, and all the long cool green herbage by
the water, had been swept away, and in its place was only a black and
smoking wilderness. And what we saw before our eyes was the same for
miles and miles to north and south of us, for a hundred miles to the
west from which the fire had come; and every few minutes, as long as the
wind held, carried desolation another mile to eastward.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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