Chapter XII: Chased by the Flames

A loud, clear, singular yell sounded over the plain.

It was given by Red Buffalo himself, and the hunter knew just what it meant. The Indians were about to attack them in force.

“Down wid yer guns, boys, and let the pistols speak. They’re a-comin’ now, an’ we’ll give ’em the very ole dickens,” said the old trapper.

On came the Comanches from every direction, to the number of eighteen. When they got close up, they rose to their seats, and brandishing their tomahawks and rifles in the air.

As they did so, three revolvers sent as many of them to the ground, and the tiny crack of the Frenchman’s revolver sounded quickly after. Monsieur Tierney had been an officer in the French army, and he was a dead shot with the pistol.

His man fell to the ground with a yell of pain, badly wounded.

Again the revolvers cracked, and yet a third time.

Eight of the Comanches were down, and the remaining ten, including Red Buffalo and Snapping Fox, were wavering.

Another discharge, and the fall of two more braves quickly decided them. Turning their mustangs, they bent forward, so that the whites could not get a good aim at them, and off they went like the wind.

“Go it, ole Red Buffler. I let ye go off this time, fur I want ter hev a stand-up fight wid ye. Yer maxim must be, ‘those who fight an’ run away, may live to fight another day,’ judgin’ by the way ye’re a-makin’ tracks,” said the guide, with a grin.

The four whites mounted their horses, and rode off toward the south.

They reloaded all of their weapons, and were talking over the recent fight as they rode on.

Suddenly the others saw Ralph turn in his saddle, and a low exclamation burst from his lips. What had caused it?

The others turned and looked back, but could see nothing.

“What is it, Ralph?” asked the young hunter.

“Look at the horizon. See that,” said Ralph.

“I see nothing but a cloud rising. What do you make it out to be?”

“I’ll tell yer what I know it to be. It is smoke. The cussed Injins hev fired the grass. The wind is a-blowin’ strong right toward us, an’ we must git. It looks bad, fur our horses are tired.”

The others started when they heard this. They were not through with the Comanches, after all. Red Buffalo hated them terribly, and although beaten in a square fight, he was not beaten altogether.

Obeying the order of the guide, the whites set off at as rapid a pace as they could command. This was not much, as their horses, or at least three of them, were pretty well tired out.

The Indians knew this when they fired the prairie-grass, and now the Indian chief thought he had the hated whites in a fix.

Little did he know the fertile brain of the old hunter.

Ralph explained to the other three, that some distance ahead was a wide, but shallow stream. The prairie went down to the edge, and the fire would go that far and no further.

There was a forest on the other side, and Ralph wanted to reach this.

On they went, casting glances of apprehension behind them.

As the cloud of smoke and the fire came closer, these glances were partly admiring ones. No one but a timid man or an absolute coward could fail to admire the scene, even at this dangerous situation.

“Von beautiful sight. Von superb spectacle. Von grand, sublime, magnificent picture. De man dat paint dat, he be worth a fortune,” murmured the brave and enthusiastic Frenchman, as he watched the huge billows of fire, as they rolled upward, topped off with volumes of dense black smoke.

Now a herd of fleet deer would shoot past the four riders, their large eyes distended with terror, at the sight behind them.

Then came a drove of wild mustangs, going like the wind. After this came a confused medley of buffaloes, wolves, coyotes, horses, deer, and in among them came a huge bear, which was making excellent time.

The fire looked grand and terrible, as it got closer and closer.

The four whites could not help admiring the sight, even though they knew that perhaps it would be their death.

The flames shot hundreds of feet into the air, and came onward, at a speed which would have put a race-horse down.

The wind was pretty strong, and as the guide had said before, was coming straight toward them.

On went the four riders, and on came the sea of fire.

It looked like a fiery avenger, upon the track of the whites, and the little Frenchman could not help wondering whether he and his comrades would ever see the sun again.

That bright luminary was hidden from sight now, by the dense clouds of smoke that covered the prairie.

The guide began to look anxious. The river was quite a distance away, and the fire getting alarmingly near, as the increasing heat testified. At length the circus-rider exclaimed:

“How far is it to the water, Ralph?”

“About two-thirds o’ a mile, I reckon,” replied the hunter.

“We’ll never reach it, then,” said Barry.

“Jest what I was a-thinkin’,” said the guide.

“Then what in heaven’s name will we do? We can’t keep on this way. Have you no plan, Ralph?” said Barry.

“We’ll stop not over three hundred yards from hyar,” answered Ralph.

“How’s that? There’s not a tree, log or rock around. Explain what you say,” said the young hunter, turning to the guide.

“Why we can’t reach the river, that’s certain. We’ve got to do something, fur thar’s no fun in being burned up by the pesky fire. Now what I propose is this. We’ll _fight fire wid fire_. What d’ye say to that, now?” called out Ralph, to make himself heard above the trampling hoofs, and the roaring and crackling of flames, which came rushing on like a huge wall.

“We don’t know what you mean,” returned Barry, in an equally loud tone, for the very same reason.

“Why it’s this. When we git to that high grass over thar we’ll dismount, and start a fire o’ our own. How’s that fur high?”

“It is von elegant plan vich ve shall follow at once, Monsieur Ralph,” said the polite little naturalist.

Looking around as the Frenchman spoke (the naturalist was a little behind the others), the hunter saw a sight which caused a huge grin to come upon his face, and it to relax from its thoughtful mood.

The sharp and cool Frenchman had opened his umbrella, and was holding it above his head to keep the sparks off.

The guide gave a roar of laughter, in which he was joined by the other two, and which was echoed by the subject.

Then, as they had reached the spot where the grass was high, the four men suddenly checked their wild career, and sprung to the ground.

The Frenchman had shut down his umbrella, and being in the mind of the hunter the person most suited to hold the horses, the latter were given in his care. The other three began to pull up the dry grass, and to pile it up as rapidly as wthey could.

It was a matter of life and death with them, and the way they worked was a caution, their arms flew about as if by magic, and the heap of grass grew higher and higher.

The Frenchman had his hands full in keeping the bridles of his horses in his hands, for the animals, frightened at the nearness of the immense sea of fire, and at the falling sparks, were very wild and strove to break away, but the naturalist was stronger than one would take him to be, and he managed to hold onto them, although several times he was very nearly dragged from his feet.

It was a singularly wild and picturesque scene. The smoke obscured the light of the sun, and the flames lit up the prairie with a reddish sort of light, which made all objects have a curious look about them. There, pictured in the light, was a little man, holding four horses by the bridles, and striving to keep them quiet.

Close beside him were three others, plucking up the grass and pitching it upon the already large pile.

No wonder they did not stop an instant to note the near approach of the fire. _They were working for life, and had not a second to lose._

It was getting fearfully hot, and they could stand it no longer.

Ralph took out his revolver and fired a load into the dry grass. Then, as a tiny flame sprung up, he grasped his horse and waited.

The others relieved Tierney of their horses, for which the little naturalist was not in the least sorry. The small flame grew larger and larger, and as the wind came down upon it, began moving, at first slowly, and then faster as it increased in size and strength.