The Boy’s judgment told him it was not safe for them to linger a moment longer so near the racing flames. Any moment the wind might shift and blind them with its yellow smoke cloud, and it was hard enough at best for the children to handle the heavy row-boat. But there stood Fleet Foot, her broad ears turned inquiringly at the newcomers, whom she was too young to fear, her great velvet eyes round with terror and her pink nose twitching nervously. She was tinier than a three weeks’ calf, and nothing could have been lovelier than her white-spotted red-brown coat shading into light tan on throat and chest. [Illustration: “He lifted her bodily into the boat” —Page 161 ] The Boy dropped his oar again and stepped ashore, while his sister held the boat, with its cargo of brown bunnies, in position, by reaching out and clinging to an overhanging bush. In all her three weeks of life the Fawn had never laid eyes on human kind, nor, indeed, on any creature larger than herself save her mother, the Doe. She therefore raised trusting eyes to the Boy, licking his palm as he rubbed her nose, and she made no protest when he lifted her bodily into the boat, shoving the hares aside till he had found a place for her at the Little Girl’s feet. Just at that moment they caught sight of the Squirrels. Mother Red Squirrel and Shadow Tail and his brothers clung to a branch almost above their heads, and their cries grew shrill as a creeping flame began ascending the very tree they were on. “Oh, please see if you can’t get them!” begged the Girl, calling and coaxing to make them come down. The Boy tried, too, but in vain. Poor Mother Red Squirrel didn’t understand, and she feared the children quite as much as she feared the flames. In vain, too, the Boy pursued the Grouse chicks, while the sparks began showering all around them. “Pull out, quick!” he cried. The Girl’s eyes filled as she thought of Shadow Tail, the squirrel baby she had once held in her hand. Mother Grouse Hen had clucked her chicks beneath her wings and now crouched despairingly on the wet mud of the jutting bank. She would protect them with her own body till the last possible moment. “I have it!” exclaimed the Boy, bending to one strong oar while his sister took the other. “Let’s get across quick, and then I’ll show you!” [Illustration: [Hen]] LIII A WAY FOR THE SQUIRREL FAMILY For the space of four minutes the children bent to their oars, while the breath of the flames on the shore behind them scorched their cheeks and parched their nostrils, and the fire ate its way through the brush to the very water’s edge.