Bildungsromans; Domestic fiction; Middle West -- Fiction; Young women -- Fiction
Just after the men had gone, exultant, relieved, the girls turned
their heads to the other side of the road, and there, very silent,
very secret and venomous, leaped and glittered a little ring of
flames. An hour before, it would have looked a pretty, harmless sight
to the two who now sat, stricken by horror into a momentary frozen
stillness. The flames licked at the dry leaves and playfully sprang up
into a clump of tall dry grass. The fire was running swiftly towards a
bunch of dead alders standing at the edge of the forest. Before it had
spread an inch further, the girls were upon it, screaming for help,
screaming as people in civilization seldom scream, with all their
lungs. With uplifted skirts they stamped and trod out, under swift and
fearless feet, the sinister, silent, yellow tongues. They snatched
branches of green leaves and beat fiercely at the enemy. It had been
so small a spot compared to the great desolation across the road, they
stamped out the flames so easily, that the girls expected with every
breath to see the last of it. To see it escape them, to see it
suddenly flare up where it had been dead, to see it appear behind
them while they were still fighting it in front, was like being in a
nightmare when effort is impossible. The ring widened with appalling,
with unbelievable rapidity. Sylvia could not think it possible that
anything outside a dream could have such devouring swiftness. She trod
and snatched and stamped and screamed, and wondered if she were indeed
awake....
Yet in an instant their screams had been heard, three or four
smoke-blackened fire-fighters from beyond the road ran forward with
rakes, and in a twinkling the danger was past. Its disappearance was
as incredible as its presence.
"Ain't that just like a fire in the woods?" said one of the men, an
elderly farmer. He drew a long, tremulous breath. "It's so tarnation
_quick_! It's either all over before you can ketch your breath, or
it's got beyond you for good." It evidently did not occur to him to
thank the girls for their part. They had only done what every one did
in an emergency, the best they could. He looked back at the burned
tract on the other side of the road and said: "They've got the best
of that all right, too. I jest heard 'em shoutin' that the men from
Chitford had worked round from the upper end. So they've got a ring
round it. Nothin' to do now but watch that it don't jump. My! 'Twas a
close call. I've been to a lot of fires in my day, but I d'know as I
ever see a _closeter_ call!"
"It can't be _over_!" cried Sylvia, looking at the lurid light across
the road. "Why, it isn't an hour since we--"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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