Animals -- Fiction; Idaho -- Fiction; Shepherds -- Fiction; Young men -- Fiction
In the glow of the fire, and speaking just loud enough to be heard above
its roar, Alice and Hugh made swift appraisal of their situation. It was
not easy to be calm, to hold the body in subjugation to the brain in
that death valley, between two walls of flame. Yet the calm strength of
the wilderness itself seemed to be in their thews.
“Wait, wait,” the girl whispered. “Every second is precious—but give me
time to think. I know this country, and I’ve got to remember how the
canyons lie.”
Hugh stood silent, and endless hours seemed to go by before the girl had
marshalled all her memories of the geographical nature of Smoky Land. In
reality, her thoughts came quickly and surely.
“There’s only one way,” she told him at last, “and that’s only a chance.
It depends on how far the fire has advanced behind us. We might ride out
through the old Dark Canyon, back from the camp at Two Pines.”
“Alice, the fire has already swept it——”
“I don’t think so. The canyon is deep, and the fire hasn’t got down into
it. We must run for it—and if we get through to safety we can ride to a
’phone on the old Lost River road. Then we can ’phone to the ranger
station, and they may be able to rush men in time to save some of the
forest.”
“But that wouldn’t save the flock——”
“No. We can’t think of that, Hugh—any more. We’ve done what we could.
We’ll try to get the dog to follow us, and save him——”
“Then don’t wait any longer,” he urged her. “And kill the horse if need
be.” His hands, a single instant, groped toward hers. “Good-by——”
“Good-by?” she questioned; and for the first time a sob caught at her
throat. “What do you mean? Get up behind me. It’s the only chance——”
Her eyes leaped to his face,—for the sight of a little weakness, a
little sign of breaking strength. It was pale, even under the angry glow
of the fire, but it seemed graven of white stone. “No,” he answered
clearly. “No, Alice—just one of us must go——”
“Then I’ll stay too. I won’t go alone.”
“Listen!” His voice, ringing out in command above the roar of the
flames, held her and silenced her. “You’re wasting precious seconds. The
only way you can help is to ride—fast as the horse can run—and try to
send rangers to make a last stand in the canyon, and maybe help me out
with the sheep. The horse couldn’t make good time with both of us; it
would just mean that both of us would die, caught between those two
fires. One of us has got to stay here and try the best he can to head
the sheep back in the direction that we’ve come—to follow you through
the canyon. The wind might change—the fire might not be able to work
down at once to the canyon floor—and we might all get through.”
“There’s no hope of that. It means death for you—that’s all it means.
And there’s plenty of time for both of us if you’d just leave the sheep.
Oh, please——”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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