The Young Wireless Operator-As a Fire Patrol Part 10

"Two miles, anyway," answered Lew.

"If I can make it by seven, I may be able to get Willie. He said he would listen in every hour."

"Hurry," said Lew sharply. "I'll keep at work here."

"If it gets too hot for you," said Charley, "go right back to the brook, and come up along it to camp. That's the way I'm going back, and I'll return that way after I get Willie. Good-bye."

He started off at a fast pace. But his exertions and the heat and smoke had so weakened him that he quickly saw he could not maintain such a gait.

He dropped to a steady jog. Even that taxed his strength. But he gritted his teeth and clenched his hands and kept on.

The forest was now full of smoke. The dense cloud completely hid the sun.

Among the great pines it was almost like twilight. Charley pushed on as fast as his weary legs could carry him. More than once he tripped and fell. He could no longer see distinctly. Fatigue and the smoke in his eyes blurred his vision. He was scratched and torn and his hands were a ma.s.s of little burns. Charley scarcely noticed them. His mind was wholly intent on getting help and saving the forest. Nothing else mattered. So he staggered on through the dusky woods. He glanced at his watch. Ten minutes had pa.s.sed. He felt sure he had been running an hour and that his watch had stopped. He held it to his ear. The steady ticking somewhat rea.s.sured him.

After what seemed like another long interval he ventured to look at it again. Five minutes more had elapsed. Five minutes remained before Willie would be at his post waiting for a possible message. Charley crowded on all the speed that was left in him. But his feet seemed to be made of lead. His heart pounded painfully against his ribs. His lungs seemed nigh to bursting.

"Five minutes more," he kept muttering to himself. "Only five minutes more. I've got to make it. Only five minutes more."

Suddenly he came to their camp. In his weariness he had not recognized any landmarks. He could hardly believe it was their camp. But there were the grub bag hanging on a wire, the dishes piled by the fire, and the wireless instruments protected by the pack bags.

"Thank G.o.d for the wireless!" gasped Charley, as he threw himself on the ground beside his key. He tried to flash a call, but his hand trembled so he could not form the letters correctly. He dropped flat on his back to rest for a moment, glancing at his watch as he lay there. It lacked one minute of seven.

For sixty seconds Charley lay prostrate, looking at the second-hand on his watch as it went round. Then he sat up. The minute's rest had steadied him wonderfully. He moved his switch, pressed his finger on the key, and sent the bright sparks flas.h.i.+ng between his gap points.

"CBWC--CBWC--CBWC--CBC," he called, then paused to listen.

There was no response. An anxious look crept into his eyes.

"CBWC--CBWC--CBWC--CBC," again he called.

No answering signal sounded in his ear. His face went white.

"CBWC--CBWC--CBWC--CBC," he rapped out anxiously. And without listening for a reply, he repeated the message frantically half a dozen times. Then a buzzing sounded in his ears. A look of relief came on his face. He sighed. Willie was acknowledging his call signal.

"Good-morning," continued Willie. "Caught any trout yet?"

"The forest is afire!" flashed back Charley. "Get the district forester on the telephone instantly. His headquarters are at Oakdale. Tell him the fire is in the third valley east of Old Ironsides; that the message is from the two boys he met yesterday; that we are trying to hold it. Ask what we shall do. I'll wait for his answer."

For what seemed an endless period of time, Charley waited. Seconds were like minutes. Minutes dragged like quarter hours. It seemed as though Willie would never answer. There was nothing for Charley to do but sit and wait. In his impatience he could hardly keep still. He could not take his mind from the fire. He could think of nothing but that roaring line of flame consuming the floor of the forest and destroying the young growths.

Would Willie never get the forester? Must the entire woods burn before the forester knew of the fire? In his excitement Charley clasped and unclasped his hands and nervously swayed back and forth as he sat on the ground.

Suddenly he sat up as steady as a stone image. The wireless was beginning to speak.

"Forester on wire now," came the message from Willie. "Wants know exactly where fire is."

"A little south of east of where he met us, in the third valley beyond Ironsides," flashed back Charley.

"How big is the fire?" came a second question, after a brief interval.

"Don't know. Too big for us. Lew still fighting it. I'm going back. What shall we do?"

Again there was a pause. Then Willie answered: "Forester says find header and back-fire. Try to hold it till fire crew arrives."

"Will do our best. Listen in often. May need call you. Good-bye."

Charley threw over his switch, covered the instruments with the pack bags, and was off down the valley. He felt much refreshed by his rest. At a steady jog he made his way along the brook.

Now he found it difficult to breathe. Smoke was rolling through the forest in billows. Close by he heard the cries of terror-stricken animals. He came to the edge of the burned s.p.a.ce beside the brook, where they had beaten out the flames. Here there was practically no smoke. He turned away from the run and followed the black edge of the burned area. He knew this would bring him to Lew, and he wanted to make sure that they had extinguished every spark in the distance they had covered. Only at one point did he find fire smouldering. He beat out the sparks and went on. He could see almost nothing. The smoke grew thicker and thicker. Through it he began to distinguish the red glare of the flames. Ever louder sounded the crackle of fire. From a low, humming sound it grew, as he drew near, into a subdued roar. Then all other sounds were lost in the greater tumult of the forest fire.

Now he came close to the flames. The heat was terrific. The smoke choked him. He could hardly breathe. The roar of the fire was terrifying.

Hitherto he had felt no fear. Now a feeling of alarm suddenly seized him.

What if Lew had been overcome by smoke and burned in his absence? The possibility had never occurred to him before.

"Lew! Lew!" he shouted at the top of his voice, and started along the line of the fire. There was no reply. At least Charley heard none.

"Lew! Lew!" he cried. "Where are you?"

But no voice answered through the smoke.

"If he's down, I'll find him or die trying," muttered Charley to himself.

His face was grim and set as he started along the line of the fire again, paying no heed to the flames but looking only for his chum. Every few yards he stopped and shouted. But no answer ever reached him.

On he went, rod after rod, keeping as near the flames as he dared. He saw nothing of his friend. He came to a point where a tongue of fire had run far in advance of the remainder of the blaze. It seemed to be traveling twice as fast as the rest of the flames.

"The header!" he cried to himself. "Here's where we ought to be at work.

But I must find Lew first. He certainly never got beyond this header."

Charley stopped and called. Again and again he shouted. There was no response.

"Maybe he went back to look for me and I pa.s.sed him in the smoke," thought Charley. "I'll go back to the brook."

He turned to retrace his steps. Something suddenly flashed into flame close beside him. It caught Charley's attention. He saw it was a pine bough. Then he noticed that it had been freshly cut.

"It's Lew's brush," cried Charley. "He must have been here."

He sank on his knees close to the blazing bough, and heedless of smoke and flame began to examine the ground carefully. He ran his fingers lightly over the leaves, feeling for footprints. At first he found nothing. Then he discovered the impression of a heel. He could not be certain which way the footprint pointed.

With the heel mark as a centre, he began to feel about in a circle two or three feet wide. He judged that would be the length of his chum's stride.

Twice he felt around the circle before he found a second footprint. It was in the direction of the brook. He moved forward and searched where he thought the third step should have fallen. Here he distinctly saw the mark of a foot. When he rose to his feet his coat sleeve was beginning to smoke and his face was blistered.

"Lew's gone back to the brook," he muttered. "I must have pa.s.sed him in the smoke. He's probably looking for me."

But he still felt vaguely uneasy and fearful. He walked rapidly toward the brook. The trail he was following became distinct. The leaves had been kicked up here and there by Lew as he walked. The track grew plainer and plainer. It became more like a plow furrow. At first Charley did not grasp the meaning of the shambling trail. Then it came to him.

"He's dragging his feet," he muttered. "He must be all in. Maybe he's down."

Charley took a quick look at the flames. They had crept frightfully close to the trail in the leaves. Then he sprang forward at top speed. His face was white.

"I've got to reach him before the fire gets him," he sobbed.

He kept peering through the smoke. "There's another header shooting out toward that log," he said, "but I won't leave the trail. I might miss Lew."