sant delight of having her feet comfortable if
even for the moment.

Men who had been working on the backfires came tumbling over the bank,
falling and splashing into the water, but no one minded being dirty or
wet.

Janet could hear a roaring that sounded like the beat of scores of
kettle drums--a roaring that was increasing in intensity and furore.

Splashing along the sandy bottom, she came to a lower place in the bank
where she could look up the slope.

A solid wall of flame topped the crest, then swept down with an amazing
rapidity. The air was hot and searing like a blast from an over-heated
furnace.

A handful of men were still grouped around Curt, working until the last
moment to spread the backfire as far as possible.

Helen, padding through the shallow water, joined Janet and they watched
the awesome scene together. The roar of the onrushing fire increased and
waves of heat beat against their faces. Janet knew that it must be
terrific out on the slope and she wondered when Curt would lead his men
in.

One of them, gasping and choking, ran toward the creek, lunged past
them, and hurled himself face downward in the water.

Seconds later Janet heard Curt's cry and the rest of the men, with Curt
and Billy Fenstow bringing up the rear, ran toward the creek bank.

The director stumbled and fell heavily and the cowboy bent down and
picked him up. Carrying the director in his arms, Curt, staggering under
the extra burden, ran on. One of the men leaped over the bank to help
and together they eased the little director into the water.

Curt turned instantly and watched the rushing flames. The roar was so
loud now that it was impossible to communicate with one another except
by shouting and Curt ran from one to another, shouting and pounding them
down under the bank where they would get the utmost protection.

Reaching out he jerked Janet and Helen sharply and jostled them under
the bank.

"Get under there and stay under. Put a wet cloth to your nose and mouth.
Don't breath any more than you have to."

Neither one of them possessed handkerchiefs, for these articles had gone
astray long before. One sleeve of Janet's dress had been ripped and she
tore the whole thing out, ripped it again, and gave Helen one half of
it. They dipped the cloth in the creek, squeezed a little of the water
out, and applied the makeshift mask to their faces.

Burning brands, carried along by the wind, were dropping in the creek