lift itself to
the skies and then fall like a devouring fury upon the forest on the
hither side of the river below, whither Peavey Jo had ridden.

In the distance the two men heard a horse scream, and they knew. But
Wilbur did not hear.

They had waited almost too long, for the wind, rising to its greatest
height, had carried the fire above them almost to the edge of the river,
and now there was no question about its crossing. Further delay meant to
be hemmed in by a ring of fire. With a shout the miner slackened the
reins and his horse leaped into a gallop, after him Merritt, and the boy
close behind. Wilbur had ridden fast before, but never had he known
such speed as now. The trail was clear before them to the top of the
ridge, the fire was behind, and the wind was hurling masses of flames
about them on every side. The horses fled with the speed of fear, and
the Supervisor drew a breath of relief as they crossed a small ridge
below the greater ridge whither they were bound.

Once a curl of flame licked clear over their heads and ignited a tree in
front of them, but they were past it again before it caught fair hold.
The boy could feel Kit's flanks heaving as she drew her breath hard, and
with the last instinct of safety he threw away everything that he
carried, even the fire-fighting tools being released. Only another mile,
but the grade was fearfully steep, the steeper the harder for the horses
but the better for the fire. Kit stumbled. A little less than a mile
left! He knew she could not do it. The mare had been kept astretch all
night, and her heart was breaking under the strain. Any second she might
fall.

The trail curved. And round the curve, with three horses saddled and
waiting, sat the old Ranger, facing the onrush of the fire as
imperturbably as though his own life were in no way involved. The
miner's horse was freshest and he reached the group first. As he did so,
he swung out of his saddle, was on one of the three and off. The
riderless horse, freed from the burden, followed up the trail. Merritt
and Wilbur reached almost at the same time.

"I reckon," drawled Rifle-Eye, "that's a pretty close call."

"He's done," said the Supervisor, ignoring the remark. "Toss him up."

With a speed that seemed almost incredible to any one accustomed to his
leisurely movements, the old Ranger dismounted, picked Wilbur bodily out
of the saddle, set him on one of the fresh animals, freed Kit, mounted
himself, and