ther we've stopped her. Then we've got to hold her.
Scatter!"

The day had passed without anybody's being aware of the fact. The cool
of the evening was already falling, and the fierceness of the
conflagration was falling in accord.

They held the line until the flames had burned themselves out against
it. Then they took up their weary patrol. Last night, when Bob was
fresh, this part of fire-fighting had seemed the hardest kind of hard
work. Now, crippled and weary as he was, in contrast to the day's
greater labour, it had become comparatively easy. About eight o'clock
Amy, having found a way through, appeared leading all the horses,
saddled and packed.

"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. Certainly a
half-dozen leaped spryly off their horses and in an instant had confined
the escaping fire. Somebody took Bob's hoe from him. A cheery voice
shouted in his ear:

"Hop along! You're through. We're on the job. Go back to camp and take a
sleep."

He and Pollock turned up the mountain. Bob felt stupid. After he had
gone a hundred feet, he realized he was thirsty, and wondered why he
had not asked for a drink. Then it came to him that he might have
borrowed a horse, but remembered thickly after a long time the
impassable dikes between him and camp.

"That's why I didn't," he said aloud.

By this time it was too late to go back for the drin