She
was standing still, now, with her face turned to the fire: then she
walked deliberately toward it. I urged my horse to a faster gait, swung
my hat, and yelled at her, but she seemed not to hear.
The smoke swept down upon her, and when I next could see, she was
stooped with her shawl drawn around her head; or was she on her knees?
Then she rose, and turning from the fire, ran as fast as she could,
until I wheeled my horse across her path, jumped to the ground and
stopped her with my arm about her waist. I looked at her. It was
Rowena Fewkes.
"Rowena," I shouted, "what you doin' here? Don't you know you'll get
burnt up?"
"I couldn't go any closer," she said, as if excusing herself. "Would it
hurt much? I got scared, Jake. Oh, don't let me burn!"
There was no chance to make the circuit of the slew now, even if I had
not been hampered with her. I told her to do as she was told, and not
bother me. Then I gave her the horse to hold, and sternly ordered her
not to let loose of him no matter what he did.
I gathered a little armful of dry grass, and lighted it with a match to
the leeward of us. It spread fast, though I lighted it where the grass
was thin so as to avoid a hot fire; but on the side toward the wind,
where the blaze was feeble, I carefully whipped it out with my slouch
hat. In a minute, or so, I had a line two or three rods long, of little
blazes, each a circle of fire burning more and more fiercely on the
leeward side, and more feebly on the side where the blaze was fanned
away from its fuel.
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