It contains a torrent sufficient to extinguish the
fiercest flames."

Loraine had hitherto been admiring the beautiful appearance of the sky.
To the south it was of that bright blue such as is seldom seen in the
British Isles. To the west it was bordered with vast, billowy clouds of
the softest, snowy white. Beneath the black cloud, which was every
instant extending, were grey masses whirling on at a terrific rate;
while, suddenly, to the north and east the expanse of heaven assumed a
dun-coloured hue, vivid with lightning, where rain appeared to be
descending in torrents. The whole atmosphere was charged with
electricity. The lightning rushed towards the earth, in straight and
zig-zag currents, the thunder varying from the sharp rattle of musketry
to the roar of artillery. Still no rain had fallen from overhead, while
scarcely a breath of air was blowing.

Meantime, however, the fire came rushing on across the prairie, the
flames, as they caught the tall grass, growing brighter and brighter,
every now and then rising and expanding, as they seized on shrubs and
trees in their onward course.

Burnett at last seemed to think that matters were growing serious, and
made a signal to the drivers of the carts to push forward. There was no
necessity, as they were doing their utmost to urge on their steeds by
uttering strange oaths and by the liberal use of their whips.

"We must try and get to the other side of the knoll, and camp; for we as
yet have only seen the beginning of the storm," remarked Burnett.

Scarcely had he said this, than, with the suddenness of a tornado, the
wind came rushing down upon them; at first, without a drop of rain, but
so fiercely that the horses were forced from the track. Again and again
it seemed hopeless to drive against it. The lightning flashed more
vividly than before; the thunder roared; while the fire advanced across
the prairie like a fiery host bent on their destruction.

"I say, I don't see why we should lose our lives, even though Burnett
thinks it is his duty to stick by the carts," said Hector, riding up to
Loraine. "We can gallop ahead, in spite of the wind; it will be better
than being turned into Guy Fawkeses."

Loraine was much inclined to follow his young friend's advice; indeed,
he suspected the rest of the party would soon leave the carts to their
fates, and try to save themselves by flight from the fiery sea, which
was tossing and heaving not a quarter of a mi