flame shut off our view of the prairie.

But that glance had shown us all, and filled our hearts with sorrow and
dismay; it revealed the situation of the trapper--no longer a situation
of peril, but, as we supposed, of certain death!

He was still in the place where we had last seen him; he had evidently
made no attempt to escape from it. Perhaps the knowledge that such an
attempt must have failed, and hindered him from making it. The
reflection that he might as well die where he stood, as be licked up by
the flames in the act of fleeing from them, had bound him to the spot,
wavering and undecided!

Oh! it was a dread sight to see that old man, hardened sinner that he
was about to be snatched into eternity!

I remember his wild look, as the red flame, roiling between us, shut him
from our sight! We saw him but for a single instant: his head and
shoulders were alone visible above the tall weeds. He made no sign
either with voice or arm; but I fancied that even at that distance I
could read his glance of despair!

Was there no hope? Could no exertion be made to rescue him? Could he
do nothing for himself? Was there no chance of his being able to clear
a circle round him, and burn off a space before the line of fire could
come up? Such a ruse has often availed, but no--never in such a ground
as that! The weeds were too thick and tall--it could not be done--Garey
said it could not be done.

There was no hope, then. _The old trapper was lost_!

CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT.

RUBE ROASTED ALIVE.

Doomed beyond doubt--doomed to quick, awful, and certain death was the
earless trapper. In five minutes more he must perish. The wall of
flame, moving faster than charging cavalry, would soon envelope him, and
surer than the carbine's volley or the keen sabre-cut was the death
borne forward upon the wings of that hissing, crackling cohort of fire.

Here and there, tall jets, shooting suddenly upward, stalked far in
advance of the main line--fiery giants, with red arms stretched forth,
as if eager to grasp their victim. Already their hot breath was upon
him; another minute, and he must perish!

In a sort of stupor we stood, Garey and I, watching the advance of the
flames. Neither of us uttered a word: painful emotions prevented
speech. Both our hearts were beating audibly. Mine was bitterly wrung;
but I knew that the heart of my companion was enduring the very acme of
anguish. I glanced upward to his face: hi