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Quick, Herbert, 1861-1925

"Vandemark's Folly"

This side of each circle I whipped out with my hat,
some of them with difficulty. Soon, we had a fierce fire raging, leaving
in front of us a growing area of black ashes. We were now between two
fires; the great conflagration from which we were trying to protect
ourselves came on from the west like a roaring tornado, its ashes
falling all about us, its hot breath beginning to scorch us, its
snapping and crackling now reaching the ear along with its roar; while
on the east was the fire of my own kindling, growing in speed, racing
off away from us, leaving behind it our haven of refuge, a tract swept
clean of food for the flames, but hot and smoking, and as yet all too
small to be safe, for the heat and smoke might kill where the flames
could not reach. Between the two fires was the fast narrowing strip of
dry grass from which we must soon move. Our safety lay in the following
of one fire to escape the other.
The main army of the flames coming on from the west, with its power of
suction, fanned itself to a faster pace than our new line could attain,
and the heat increased, both from the racing crimson line to the west,
and the slower-moving back-fire on the other side. We sweltered and
almost suffocated. Rowena buried her face in her shawl, and swayed as if
falling. I took her by the arm, and leading the excited horse, we moved
over into our zone of safety. She was trembling like a leaf.
I was a little anxious for a few minutes for fear I had not started my
back-fire soon enough; but the fear soon passed.


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