"Can't seem to get far
enough back!"
"There's too few of us to handle such a big fire," his wife replied.
"You can't do it with six men."
"Seven," amended Charley. "You're as good as any of us. Don't you
worry, Lou. Even if we don't stop her--and I think we will--we're
checking the run of her until we get help. We're doing well. There's
only two old fire-fighters in the lot--you and me. All the rest is green
hands. We're doing almighty well."
Overhearing this Bob plucked up heart. These desperate stands were not
then so wasted as he had thought them. At least the fire was checked at
each defence--it was not permitted to run wild over the country.
"We ought to get help before long," he said.
"To-morrow, I figure," replied Charley Morton. "The boys are scattered
wide, finishing odds and ends before coming in for the Fourth. It'll be
about impossible to get hold of any of 'em except by accident. But
they'll all come in for the Fourth."
The next defence was successfully completed before the fire reached it.
Bob felt a sudden rush of most extraordinary and vivifying emotion. A
moment ago he had been ready to drop in his tracks, indifferent whether
the fire burned him as he lay.
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