last for long. But
with every stride the hill was coming nearer, and it almost seemed as
if Caesar understood their necessity, and his own. Once Joan looked
back. That sturdy horse of the Padre was doggedly pursuing. Step for
step he hugged his stable companion's trail, but he was far, far
behind.

"The Padre," cried Joan. "They are a long way back."

"God help him!" cried Buck, through clenched teeth. "I can't. To wait
fer him sure means riskin' you."

"But----" Joan broke off and turned her face up to the canopy of smoke
driving across them. "Rain!" she cried, with a wild thrill of hope.
"Rain--and in a deluge."

In a moment the very heavens seemed to be emptying their reservoirs.
It came, not in drops, but in streams that smote the earth, the fire,
themselves with an almost crushing force. In less than half a minute
they were drenched to the skin, and the water was pouring in streams
from their extremities.

"We've won out," cried Buck, with a great laugh.

"Thank God," cried Joan, as she turned her scorched face up to receive
the grateful water.

Buck eased the laboring Caesar.

"That fire won't travel now, an'--ther's the hill," the man nodded.

They had steadied to a rapid gallop. The hill, as Buck indicated, was
just ahead. Joan's anxious eyes looked for the beginning of the slope.
Yes, it was there. Less than two hundred yards ahead.

The air filled with steam as the angry fire strove to battle with its
arch-enemy. But the rain was as merciless in its onslaught as had been
the storm, and the fire itself. The latter had been given full scope
to work its mischief, and now it was being called to its account.
Heavier and heavier the deluge fell, and the miracle of its
irresistible power was in the rapid fading of the ruddy glow in the
smoke-laden atmosphere. The fire was beaten from the outset and its
retreat before the opposing element was like a panic flight.

In five minutes Caesar was clawing his way up over the boulder-strewn
slopes of the hill, and Joan knew that, for the time at least, they
were safe. She knew, too, if the rain held for a couple of hours, the
blazing woods would be left a cold waste of charred wreckage.

* * * * *

But the rain did not hold. It lasted something less than a quarter of
an hour. It was like a merciful act of Providence that came at the one
moment when it could serve the fugitives. The chances had been all
against them. Buck had kno