wn it. The fire must have met them at the
foot of the hill and so barred their ultimate escape. The Padre behind
had been inevitably doomed.

CHAPTER XXXVI

THE CATACLYSM

Two hours later two men and a girl gazed out from the plateau of
Devil's Hill. The whole earth it seemed was a raging sea of fire. Once
more the forests were ablaze in every direction. The blistering
tongues of fire had licked up the heavy rain, and were again roaring
destruction over the land.

Far as the eye could reach the lurid pall of smoke was spread out,
rolling upward and onward, borne upon the bosom of the gale. In its
midst, and through it, the merciless flames leapt up and up. The
booming of falling timbers, and the roar of the flames smote painfully
upon the hearts of the watchers. It was a spectacle to crush every
earthly hope. It was a sight so painful as to drive the mind of man
distracted. In all their lives these people had never imagined such a
terror. In all their lives they could never witness such again.

They stood there silent and awed. They stood there with eyes straining
and ear-drums throbbing with the din of the battle. Their horses were
roaming at will and the still form of Aunt Mercy was at their feet.
There was no shelter. There was no hope. Only they knew that where
they stood was safety, at least, from the fire below.

Presently Joan knelt at her aunt's side and studied her ashen features
in the ruddy light. The woman's unconsciousness had remained through
all that journey. Or was she dead? Joan could not make up her mind.

Once, as she knelt, she reeled and nearly fell across that still body.
And when, recovering herself, she looked up at the men she saw that
they were braced, with feet apart, supporting each other. Then, in the
roar of the storm she heard Buck's voice shouting in the Padre's ear.

"Guess--ther's more to come yet," he said with a profound
significance.

She saw the Padre's nod, and she wondered at the fresh danger he saw
ahead.

Buck turned and looked out over the desolate plateau with troubled
eyes. She followed his gaze. Strangely she had little fear, even with
that trouble in her lover's eyes.

The plateau was desperately gloomy. It was hot, too, up there,
terribly hot. But Joan had no thought for that except that she
associated it with the hot wind blowing up from below. Her observation
was narrowed to a complete dependence on Buck. He was her hope, her
only hope.

Suddenly