long pull at his canteen. For the moment he felt as though his energy
had all been drained away.

"Well, that was a good little scrap," observed Charley Morton
cheerfully. "I certainly do wish it was always night when a man had to
fight fire. In a hot sun it gets to be hard work."

Elliott rolled his eyes, curiously white like a minstrel's in his
blackened face, at Bob, but said nothing.

"We'll leave Elliott here to watch this a few minutes, and go down the
line," said Morton.

Bob lifted his canteen, and, to his surprise, found it empty.

"Why, I must have drunk a gallon!" he cried.

"It's dry work," said Morton.

They continued on down the fire line, pausing every once in a while to
rake and scrape leisurely at the heavy bark beneath some blazing stub.
The fierce, hard work was over. All along the fire line from the dome of
granite over the ridge down to Granite Creek the fire had consumed all
the light fuel on its own side the defence. No further danger was to be
apprehended in the breaking across. But everywhere through the now
darkening forest blazed the standing trees. A wind would fill the air
with brands; and even in the present dead calm those near the line were
a threat.

The men traversed the fire line from end to end a half-dozen times. Bob
became acquainted individually and minutely with each of the danger
spots. The new temporary features of country took on, from the effects
of vigilance and toil, the dignity of age and establishment. Anxiously
he widened the path here, kicked back glowing brands there, tried to
assure himself that in no possible manner could the seed of a new
conflagration find germination. After a long time he heard three shots
from up the mountain. This, he remarked, was a signal agreed upon. He
shouldered his blackened implements and commenced a laborious ascent.

Suddenly he discovered that he was very tired, and that his legs were
weak and wobbly. Stubs and sticks protruded everywhere; stones rolled
from under his feet. Once on a steep shale, he fell and rolled ten feet
out of sheer weariness. In addition he was again very thirsty, and his
canteen empty. A chill gray of dawn was abroad; the smell of stale
burning hung in the air.

By the time he had staggered into camp the daylight had come. He glanced
about him wearily. Across a tiny ravine the horses dozed, tied each to a
short picket rope. Bob was already enough of a mountaineer to notice
that the feed was very scan