ld see back into
the dragon's great mouth where bushes and trees were flaming and
disappearing--and suddenly he gave a roar and leaped for our fire line,
and ate a bush near it.

Then I leaped for him and struck a paw down with my stick. So we began
to fight.

It wasn't a crown fire, where the flames travel through the tops of the
timber; it traveled along the ground, and climbed the low trees and then
reached for the big ones. But when it came near the fire line, it
stopped and felt about sort of blindly, and that was our chance to jump
on it and stamp it out and beat it out and kill it.

The smoke was awful, and so was the heat, but the wind helped me and
carried most of it past. And now the old dragon was right in front of
me, raging and snapping. The fore part of him must be approaching Jed
Smith, further along the line. I whistled the Scout whistle, loud, and
gave the Scout halloo--and from Jed echoed back the signal to show that
all was well.

This was hot work, for Sunday or any day. The smoke choked and blinded,
and the air fairly scorched. Pine makes a bad blaze. What I had to do
was to run back and forth along the fire line, crushing the dragon's
claws. My shoes felt burned through and my face felt blistered, and
jiminy, how I sweat! But that dragon never got across my part of the
fire line.

The space inside my part was burnt out and smoldering, and I could join
with Jed. There were two of us to lick the fire, here; but the dragon
was raging worse and the two of us were needed. He kept us busy. I
suppose that there was more brush. And when we would follow him down,
and help Kit, he was worse than ever. How he roared!

He was determined to get across and go around that willow bog. Once he
did get across, and we chased him and fought him back with feet and
hands and even rolled on him. A bad wind had sprung up, and we didn't
know but that we were to have a crown fire. The heat would have baked
bread; the cinders were flying and we must watch those, to catch them
when they landed. We had to be everywhere at once--in the smoke and the
cinders and the flames, and if I hadn't been a Scout, stationed with
orders, I for one would have been willing to sit and rest, just for a
minute, and let the blamed fire go. But I didn't, and Kit and Jed
didn't; all of a sudden the dragon quit, and with roar and crackle went
plunging on, along the ridge inside the willow bog. We had held the fire
line--and we didn't know th