e bridge. But just before he reached it
the now blazing timbers burned through and the bridge crashed into the
stream.

"It's Ben," muttered Wilbur confusedly; "I guess I've got to go back,"
and he headed Kit for the trail.

But the Supervisor leaned over and almost crushed the bones of the boy's
hand in his restraining grip.

"No need," he said, "he's all right now."

For as he spoke Wilbur saw Ben leap from the bank on the portion of the
burned bridge which had collapsed on his side of the stream. A few quick
strokes with the ax the boy was carrying and the timbers were free, and
crouched down upon them the boy was being carried down the stream. His
peril was extreme, for below as well as above the fire was sweeping down
on either side of the mill, and it was a question of minutes, almost of
seconds, whether the bridge-raft would pass down the river before the
fire struck or whether it would be caught.

"If the wind would only lull!" ejaculated the boy.

"I'll stay here till I see him burn," replied Peavey Jo grimly.

But Wilbur's wish met its fulfillment, for just for the space that one
could count ten the wind slackened, and every second meant a few yards
of safety to the half-witted lad. Though they were risking their lives
by staying, the three men waited, waited as still as they could for the
fear of their horses, until the boy disappeared round a curve of the
river. A muttered execration from Peavey Jo announced the lad's safety.
It angered the usually calm Supervisor.

"That ends you," he said. "You're licked, and you know it. Your mill's
gone, your timber's gone, and your credit's gone. Don't let me see you
on this forest again."

"You think I do no more, eh? Me, I forget? Non! By and by you remember
Peavey Jo. Now I ride down river. That boy, you see him? He see the sun
rise this morning. He no see the sun set. No. Nor ever any more. I
follow the river trail. I do not say good-by, like the old song," he
added, scowling his fury; "you wish yes! Non! I say _au revoir_, and
perhaps sooner than you t'ink."

He wheeled and turned down the river. The Supervisor turned to the
miner.

"It's not my business to stop him," he said, "and the boy's got the
start. He can't reach there before the fire does, now."

Then, as though regretting the lull, the wind shrieked with a new and
more vindictive fury, as though it saw its vengeance before it. Almost
at a breath it seemed the whole body of flame appeared to