Chapter XVI: A Timely Warning

It was nearly dark when they finally arrived at the lake. Chris Benton and Jim Burroughs were waiting for them at the landing with a couple of canoes, and they were soon skimming over the placid waters of the lake to the Benton camp.

"This smoke's pretty thick here," said Jack.

"The woods are on fire all around us," said Chris.

"That's the trouble," said Jim Burroughs. "The summer's been mighty dry. See how low the lake is. A lot of the streams around here have dried up. This lake is partly spring fed, and it doesn't depend altogether on the little brooks that flow into it. Otherwise I'm afraid this wouldn't be much of a place just now."

"Is there any danger of the fire coming this way, Jim?" asked Jack.

"Not a bit, Jack. The wind's the other way, and if it shifts it's certain to bring rain with it and put the fire out, anyhow. It would take a good, strong, east wind to blow the fire over this way, and that would mean a regular rain storm, sure. So we're safe enough here. Fires never have reached Eagle Lake."

"I'm glad of that. It would be a shame to have any fire here. It might burn up the camps, you know, and that would be a pity."

"It sure would! But I guess we're safe enough here. The guides all say so, and they ought to know, certainly. They've lived in the woods most of their lives, from what they say, and they don't seem to think that there's any danger at all."

"They certainly ought to know," agreed Jack. "They know more than we do, anyhow. That's a sure thing."

The two Scouts were pretty well tired out from their long hike, and they enjoyed their comfortable beds that night. It was warm, and even though the air was full of smoke, it was strong and bracing. So they awoke in the morning refreshed and full of life, and, when Chris hailed them, they joined him with a will in a plunge into the chilly water of the lake.

"How far away is the fire, Jim?" Jack asked, after breakfast.

"Two or three miles to the west, I guess," said Jim, carelessly. "It won't come any nearer, either, Jack."

"I think I'll go take a look at it," said Jack. "Coming, Pete and Chris?"

"Sure we are!" they cried.

Their eyes smarted, and their throats were parched as they made their way toward the burning timber, but they didn't mind such small discomforts, and soon Jack had a chance to see a real woods fire burning at its height.

"This is the real thing, Pete," he said, when they got a good look at the fire from the ridge where they had found Bess Benton on the first night they had been at Eagle Lake, some weeks earlier.

"Gee," said Pete, "I thought that fire we helped to stop near the city was big enough, but this beats it all hollow, doesn't it, Jack?"

"Come on!" said Jack, with sudden determination. "This isn't safe, no matter what the guides say. If the wind changes this fire would sweep right down to the edge of the lake. A little rain wouldn't make any impression on it at all."

Jack, once his mind was made up, wasn't afraid of ridicule or anything else. He went back to camp, and sought out Mr. Benton.

"I think that fire's mighty dangerous, Mr. Benton," he said. "I know the guides say you're perfectly safe here, but I've lived in a place where they had big woods fires nearly every year, and this is the biggest fire I ever saw. It would take a week's soaking rain to stop it, and if the wind turns to the east, even if it does bring some rain, it will turn that fire straight for the lake here, and burn up everything it meets on the way."

"What would you advise, Jack?" asked Mr. Benton. There was a twinkle in his eye, for he thought the guides knew more than Jack, but he wanted to humor the Scout, who stood very high in his estimation.

"I'd dig a deep, broad ditch, and fill it with water. I'd make it at least five feet deep, and ten or twelve feet broad, Mr. Benton. That would give us a chance to keep the fire from reaching the buildings here. There's still some water in that brook that runs down from the ridge, though there won't be very long, and you could divert that into the ditch, and then dam the ditch at the lake, so that you'd have quite a little pond behind the houses on the side nearest the fire. If you could get half a dozen men they could dig a ditch like that, roughly, in a day. And I'd certainly do it, sir!"

Mr. Benton was impressed, despite himself, by Jack's earnestness. His camp had cost him nearly ten thousand dollars, and practically nothing would survive the fire if it should sweep over it. So, after a little thought, and not heeding the laughter of Jim Burroughs and the guides, he decided to take Jack's advice.

The guides, pressed into service for the digging of the ditch, thought that the task was foolish. They grumbled at having to do it, but they had no choice but to obey, once Mr. Benton had given the order. And before they were half done, the wind, which had died away completely, began to come again in short puffs from the east.

"That means rain," said Jim. "Jack, you young rascal, I believe you started this scare just to see us all work!"

"I've known the wind to blow from the northeast for a whole day before the rain came," said Jack, "especially at this time of the year."

The fire was a mile nearer the camp when the ditch was finished. It wasn't much of a ditch, and it wouldn't last very long, but looking it over, Jack decided that it was much better than nothing. And it held the water, at least, which was the most important thing.

As the wind continued to come from the east, without a sign of the hoped for rain, Mr. Benton looked very grave.

"I think you've saved us from a real disaster by your insistence, Jack," he said. "I'm certainly glad that we took your advice."

The roaring of the fire could be plainly heard now. The smoke was so thick that all of them went around with wet cloths tied over their mouths, and smoked glasses to protect their eyes. Even the guides looked serious, and seemed to have a new and greater respect for Jack Danby and the precaution he had forced them to take.

"Never saw nothin' like this," said one of them. "Never in all the years I've been in the woods. The youngster sure do know a fire when he sees it."

"I'm sorry I laughed at you, Jack, old man," said Jim Burroughs, choking as he spoke. "You certainly had the right dope on this fire. Gosh, listen to it roaring back there!"

The ditch was in the form of a rough half circle, and went completely around the Benton clearing. It was dug so that the brook from the ridge ran into it and filled it, and a space of a foot or so was left untouched at each end of it where it reached the lake. This made a natural dam, and held the water in, so that, as the brook continued to flow in, a small pond was formed behind the clearing, just as Dick had suggested. That made a wide space for the fire to leap, and Jack felt that, even if the fire swept completely around his ditch, the men in the clearing, by constant vigilance, would be able to beat out any sparks and flying embers that might otherwise have set fire to the buildings. But, as a further precaution, the boats of the camp, with water and provisions, were kept ready, so that the family might take to the lake if the need arose.

"Gee," said Pete, suddenly after nightfall, "we forgot the stuff at Camp Simms, Jack!"

"So we did!" cried Jack. "Well, there's time enough yet. The fire will burn right over the camp site there, but it's better cleared than this, and there won't be much damage if we take the stuff from the shack and bring it all over here. We can't save the shack, but that can be built up again in a hurry after the fire's all over. Come on!"

They told the others what they planned to do, and Jim Burroughs volunteered to go with them and help them. In an hour they had brought everything portable from Camp Simms to the Benton camp, which was not very far away, and then they felt that they had taken every possible precaution. There was nothing more to do after that but wait on the fire. It could not be hurried, and, so great had it become, it could not be delayed or checked by any human agency.

There was no question in the mind of any of them now of the wisdom of Jack's fears. Had it not been for the ditch, they admitted, they could not have done anything to save the camp.

"There'll be no sleep for any of us to-night," said Mr. Benton. "We'll have to be ready when it gets near enough to keep it from jumping the ditch and the pond. There's nothing else to stop it, certainly."

The guides were on watch, beyond the water, like pickets, and before long they were driven in by the advancing fire. The heat was terrific, and, under Mr. Benton's direction, lines of hose were laid to the lake, and with the windmill that pumped fresh water to give pressure, the hose was played constantly on the roofs and walls of the buildings of the camp, to make it harder for flying sparks to set them afire.

There was plenty of hose, and as the fire advanced Jack was thankful for that. Water was better than branches and sticks for beating out any fire that leaped the water wall, and the hose was easier to handle, too.

Soon after eleven great drops of water began to fall, and then there was a steady downpour of rain.

"There's your rain, at last, Jim," said Jack. "You can see how much effect it has. It's like pouring water from a flower pot down a volcano and hoping to put it out. The fire doesn't even know it's raining!"

"I guess you're right, Jack," said Jim. "Don't rub it in, though. I'll admit that you saved the situation by making us do what you wanted."

Now began the real fight with the fire. Roaring, bellowing, furious in its onslaught, it swept all about the ditch that held it from its prey. It seemed maddened with rage at the obstacle that man had opposed to its conquering rush, and, raging, it flung sparks and flaming embers at the defenders of the camp.

For two hours they worked, looking, through the light of the lurid flames, like fiends. Their faces were blackened by the smoke, but they never ceased their efforts. Buckets of water were placed all about the clearing, and into these they plunged the cloths that they kept over their faces. Other buckets of barley water, with dippers, were also there, and when there was a chance for a moment's pause, they drank deep draughts of the most cooling and refreshing drink that man has yet devised. Barley water with a little lemon juice did more to moisten parched throats and mouths than the most elaborate drink could have done. It was food and drink alike.

The rain came down to help them all this time, pouring a great volume of water on the fire. And, after about two hours of fighting, the fire was beaten. It had burned over the whole section near the camp. The lake stopped it, and the fire, growling and angry, died away because there was nothing else for it to burn. But the vigil lasted all night.

Morning saw Camp Benton standing like an oasis in a desert of blackened trees and stumps. The whole side of the lake was a wilderness. But the camp, thanks to the Boy Scout fire fighters, was saved.

"You're certainly welcome guests!" said Mr. Benton. "Thanks to you, we still have the camp. The trees will grow again. And now I think we can all go to sleep for about twenty-four hours."

_THE BRADEN BOOKS_

FAR PAST THE FRONTIER.

By JAMES A. BRADEN

The sub-title "Two Boy Pioneers" indicates the nature of this story--that it has to do with the days when the Ohio Valley and the Northwest country were sparsely settled. Such a topic is an unfailing fund of interest to boys, especially when involving a couple of stalwart young men who leave the East to make their fortunes and to incur untold dangers.

"Strong, vigorous, healthy, manly."--_Seattle Times_.

CONNECTICUT BOYS IN THE WESTERN RESERVE

By JAMES A. BRADEN

The author once more sends his heroes toward the setting sun. "In all the glowing enthusiasm of youth, the youngsters seek their fortunes in the great, fertile wilderness of northern Ohio, and eventually achieve fair success, though their progress is hindered and sometimes halted by adventures innumerable. It is a lively, wholesome tale, never dull, and absorbing in interest for boys who love the fabled life of the frontier."--Chicago Tribune.

THE TRAIL OF THE SENECA

By JAMES A. BRADEN

In which we follow the romantic careers of John Jerome and Return Kingdom a little farther.

These two self-reliant boys are living peaceably in their cabin on the Cuyahoga when an Indian warrior is found dead in the woods nearby. The Seneca accuses John of witchcraft. This means death at the stake if he is captured. They decide that the Seneca's charge is made to shield himself, and set out to prove it. Mad Anthony, then on the Ohio, comes to their aid, but all their efforts prove futile and the lone cabin is found in ashes on their return.

CAPTIVES THREE

By JAMES A. BRADEN

A tale of frontier life, and how three children--two boys and a girl--attempt to reach the settlements in a canoe, but are captured by the Indians. A common enough occurrence in the days of our great-grandfathers has been woven into a thrilling story.

The Saalfield Publishing Co,
AKRON, OHIO

THE BOY SCOUT SERIES

1 THE BOY SCOUTS IN CAMP
2 THE BOY SCOUTS TO THE RESCUE
3 THE BOY SCOUTS ON THE TRAIL
4 THE BOY SCOUT FIRE-FIGHTERS
5 THE BOY SCOUTS AFLOAT
6 THE BOY SCOUT PATHFINDERS
7 THE BOY SCOUT AUTOMOBILISTS
8 THE BOY SCOUT AVIATORS
9 THE BOY SCOUTS' CHAMPION RECRUIT
10 THE BOY SCOUTS' DEFIANCE
11 THE BOY SCOUTS' CHALLENGE
12 THE BOY SCOUTS' VICTORY

End of Project Gutenberg's The Boy Scout Fire Fighters, by Robert Maitland