"Not much they won't," Dick answered. "The cattle are headed along a natural lane, where the trees are less thick than in other parts of the forest." "The trees will stop 'em before they get here," Reade insisted. "The trees will do nothing of the sort," uttered Dick, glancing swiftly about him. "The cattle are among the trees already. Just hear that rumble. And it's a lot closer now." "I reckon we'd better move, do it now, and do it fast," cried Hazelton, who knew that Dick's judgment was generally the best. "And leave our camp to be trampled down and made a complete wreck by a lot of crazy cattle?" gasped Greg Holmes. "I'd rather have the camp trampled than my face," retorted Dalzell. "I don't want to flee from here and leave the camp to be destroyed, and our summer's fun spoiled," protested Greg. "We must stop the cattle, or split their stampede." "All right, Holmesy," agreed Tom ironically. "I appoint you to do my full share in stopping a stampede of cattle." Reade's face had suddenly grown very grave as he now realized that the trees were not stopping the frenzied cattle. Dick, who had been thinking, suddenly wheeled, making a break for the supplies. "Get a box of matches, each one of you!" he shouted. "Then sprint with me for that patch of sun-baked grass just north of us." "What's the idea?" Dave asked, but Dick was already running fast. "Get your matches and come on!" Dick called back over his shoulder. As speedily as could be done the others followed suit. Dick reached the sun-burned strip of grass, whose nearer edge was some two hundred yards north of camp. "Hey! He's starting a forest fire!" gasped Dan Dalzell, as he caught sight of young Prescott bending over the dried, yellowish grass. "Scatter, all along the strip!" shouted Prescott, rising as soon as he had ignited a clump of grass. "Get this whole strip of burned grass blazing. It's the only chance to save the camp---or ourselves!" Dalzell shivered. Nor could Dan understand how such a course would serve to save their camp. But he saw the others following their leader's orders. "Get over the ground, Dan!" bellowed Dick, as he sprinted to another point. "Start a lot of blazes!" So Danny Grin fell in line with the movements of the others, though he felt not a little doubt as to the wisdom of the course. Flame was now spurting up over more than an acre of the sun-baked strip of grass. "Get a lot more of the grass going, fellows!" panted Dick, who was working like a beaver and dripping with perspiration. "It's our only hope. Hustle!" With the flames arose a dense cloud of smoke. As the wind was from the southwest the smoke was in the faces of the onrushing cattle. "There! We've done all we can!" bellowed Dick, running down the line formed by his chums. "Now, get back out of this roasting furnace." Close to the edge of the burning strip of grass the six high school boys now stood side by side gazing at their work.