tree crashed down into
the trail that had been hewn. It served as a conductor, and along it
tongues of fire leaped into the brush beyond. Glowing branches, flung by
the wind and hurled from falling timber, buried themselves in the dry
undergrowth. Before one blaze was crushed half a dozen others started in
its place. Flails and gunnysacks beat these down and smothered them.

Bob galloped into the canon and flung himself from the horse as he pulled
it up in its stride.

"She's jumpin' outa the gulch above. Too late to head her off. We better
get scrapers up and run a trail along the top o' the ridge, don't you
reckon?" he said.

"Yes, son," agreed Crawford. "We can just about hold her here. It'll be
hours before I can spare a man for the ridge. We got to get help in a
hurry. You ride to town and rustle men. Bring out plenty of dynamite
and gunnysacks. Lucky we got the tools out here we brought to build the
sump holes."

"Betcha! We'll need a lot o' grub, too."

The cattleman nodded agreement. "And coffee. Cayn't have too much coffee.
It's food and drink and helps keep the men awake."

"I'll remember."

"And for the love o' Heaven, don't forget canteens! Get every canteen in
town. Cayn't have my men runnin' around with their tongues hangin' out.
Better bring out a bunch of broncs to pack supplies around. It's goin' to
be one man-sized contract runnin' the commissary."

The canon above them was by this time a sea of fire, the most terrifying
sight Bob had ever looked upon. Monster flames leaped at the walls of the
gulch, swept in an eyebeat over draws, attacked with a savage roar the
dry vegetation. The noise was like the crash of mountains meeting.
Thunder could scarce have made itself heard.

Rocks, loosened by the heat, tore down the steep incline of the walls,
sometimes singly, sometimes in slides. These hit the bed of the ravine
with the force of a cannon-ball. The workers had to keep a sharp lookout
for these.

A man near Bob was standing with his weight on the shovel he had been
using. Hart gave a shout of warning. At the same moment a large rock
struck the handle and snapped it off as though it had been kindling wood.
The man wrung his hands and almost wept with the pain.

A cottontail ran squealing past them, driven from its home by this new
and deadly enemy. Not far away a rattlesnake slid across the hot rocks.
Their common fear of man was lost in a greater and more immediate one.

Hart did not li