"You boys came a long way," she explained simply, "and I thought I'd
bring over camp."
She distributed food, and made trips down the fire line with coffee.
In this manner the night passed. The line had been held. No one had
slept. Sunrise found Bob and Jack Pollock far down the mountain. They
were doggedly beating back some tiny flames. The camp was a thousand
feet above, and their canteens had long been empty. Bob raised his weary
eyes.
Out on a rock inside the burned area, like a sentinel cast in bronze,
stood a horseman. The light was behind him, so only his outline could be
seen. For a minute he stood there quite motionless, looking. Then he
moved forward, and another came up behind him on the rock. This one
advanced, and a third took his place. One after the other, in single
file, they came, glittering in the sun, their long rakes and hoes
slanted over their shoulders like spears.
"Look!" gasped Bob weakly.
The two stood side by side spellbound. The tiny flames licked past them
in the tarweed; they did not heed. The horsemen rode up, twenty strong.
It seemed to Bob that they said things, and shouted.
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