The smoke-cloud grew blacker and thicker near the earth, and gradually rose higher and higher. A strong wind set in from the west, and, before five o’clock, the ominous-looking pillars of smoke had so dimmed the sun that it appeared like a great shield of bronze. The earth was overcast with a yellow, subdued light; and the winds in their onward sweeping seemed surcharged with presentiment—burdened with dread. To the onlookers it did not seem possible that danger to them lurked in this unchained fire demon, so far away. Some one suggested that it might be well to plow furrows around the western limits of the town, and back-fire, but he was quickly laughed into silence for his fears. The increasing throng seemed to enjoy a scene that all the while was growing plainer and grander in the western horizon. It was perhaps eight o’clock that night when the residents of Meade discovered a thin glow of fire cutting the dark belt near the earth, like a blood-red sickle. The line reached for miles from north to south. The sight was novel and inspiring. The rapidly-moving smoke-clouds, in their spiral twistings, had floated far to the east, and they now presented an appearance as spectacular as an aurora borealis. Great, reddened banks of clouds mounted almost to the zenith, while on either side were interspersed columns of rolling smoke of inky blackness. The people ceased jesting now, for the scene was awe-inspiring. A stillness fell over the assemblage. Presently the rumble of wagons was heard on the different country roads leading into Meade. The country folks had taken alarm, and, with well-filled wagons containing their more valuable belongings, were hastening away from their lonely dugouts to the protection of the town. Some of the townspeople were inclined, at first, to jeer at the fears of the farmers and ranchmen; but beneath their jeering there had anchored a universal lodestone of depression and apprehension. Arrangements were hastily made to protect the town by back-firing, and by plowing furrows in the prairie sod on its western, southern, and northern limits. Hundreds of willing hands volunteered to do this work. The fireline grew plainer as it continued its eastward advance. The shifting banks of smoke now resembled a seething ocean of tumult. Some of the clouds were as yellow as molten gold, while others appeared blood-stained, and fearful to look upon. The entire western sky was aglow; and even high in the heavens were restless, shifting banks of rose-tinted clouds, that feathered and paled into a fringe of dissolving pink and white.