On the plains a prairie fire is always something to be dreaded, for with the usual breeze, which often amounts to a gale, a fire in heavy, dry grass is almost invariably uncontrollable and a source of terror to the luckless traveller who happens to be in its track. Such a fire originates most commonly from the embers of a camp-fire--left by some careless or inexperienced traveller--blown by a rising wind out into the adjacent dry grass or, in the spring of the year, by fires purposely set out in the old grass by the Indians to clear the ground for the next crop. An essay might be written on prairie fires and the dangers from them and on the best means of fighting them. I have now only to tell of how one of us was caught in one. For the next few days after Wild Bill and Captain Saunders had left us we were all busy taking in wolf pelts. The season was fast passing, and we yet lacked several hundred skins of the three thousand that we had declared that we would gather before quitting. One cold, windy day, when a gale was blowing from the northwest, Jack started out alone and afoot--he said it was too cold and windy to ride--to kill a few buffalo wolf baits. Crossing the creek below the beaver dam, to look for buffalo in the prairie beyond, he soon passed out of sight, while Tom and I busied ourselves taking up the dried skins and baling them. We heard the report of Jack's carbine occasionally and knew by the direction of the sounds that he was to windward of camp--about northwest. After Jack had been out for some time Tom took the field-glass and went up onto the bluff south of our camp, from which he could view the prairie north of the creek. He gazed long and intently through the glass in Jack's direction and presently started back to camp on a run. I knew that something unusual was up. We had heard no uncommon firing from Jack, but, on seeing Tom hurrying down the hill, my thought was: "Indians about or Jack's in trouble." Dropping my work, I rushed down into the dugout, seized both rifles, and, with a few blocks of cartridges, ran back up onto the bank again, looking first toward Tom and then to the timber north of us. There was no sign or sound of an enemy. When the old man arrived, breathless from running, he noted my preparations for war and gasped out as fast as he could catch his breath: