that
all was out. The afternoon was drawing on and for about a quarter of a
mile the fire was entirely out, and for another quarter it was almost
under control.

Madly the boy worked, his breath coming in gasps, his lungs aching from
the smoke, so that it became agony even to breathe, the ground hot
beneath his feet, and his feet beginning to blister, as his hands had
done an hour before, but there was no let-up. He had come to fight fire,
and he would fight fire. Another mad hour's battle, not so successfully,
and, contrary to the usual custom, the wind began to rise at sunset; it
might die down in a couple of hours, but in the meantime damage might be
done.

Little by little the shadows grew deeper, and before it got entirely
dark Wilbur tried, but vainly, to reach the end of the line, for he knew
well that if a night wind rose and got a hold upon the remnant of the
fire that remained all his work would go for nothing. With all his might
he ran to the far end of the line, determining to work from that end up
to meet the area where he had conquered. Foot by foot he gained, but no
longer was he able to work along a straight line, the gusts of wind,
here and there, sweeping through the trees had fanned stretches, perhaps
only a few yards wide, but had driven them forward a hundred feet. But
as it grew darker the wind began to fall again, though with the darkness
the red glow of the burning needles and the flames of the burning twigs
showed more luridly and made it seem more terrifying. Still he gained
headway, foot after foot jealously contesting the battle with the fire
and the wind.

So short a space remaining, and though he seemed too tired and sore to
move, still his shovel worked with never a pause, still he scraped away
all that would burn from the path of a little line of flame. The line of
flame grew shorter, but even as he looked a gust came along, which swept
a tongue of fire fifty yards at a breath. Wilbur rushed after it,
knowing the danger of these side-way fires, but before that gust had
lulled the tongue of fire reached a little clearing which the boy had
not known was there, only a rod or two of grass, but that browned by the
sun and the drought until it seemed scarcely more than tinder. If it
should touch that!

Despite the fact that his shoes were dropping from his feet, the leather
being burned through, Wilbur sped after the escaping fire. He reached
it. But as he reached, he heard the needles ru