o little brooks that in
rainy weather had watered the land, but now these were dried up, and
there was no hope of succor from that side.

As they approached the woods, too, Jack looked gravely at what he saw.
Timber had been cut here the previous winter, and badly and wastefully
cut, too, in a way that was now a serious menace. The stumps, high
above ground, much higher than they should have been, offered fresh
fuel for the fire, dead and dry as they were, and over the ground were
scattered numerous rotting branches that should have been gathered up
and carried in for firewood.

"Looks bad, doesn't it?" Jack said to Pete.

"It certainly does," rejoined his companion. "Now we've got to find a
place where we can do the signaling."

"I see a place," said Jack, "and I think I can reach it pretty easily,
too. See that rock up there, that sticks out from the side of the
mountain? I bet you can see that a long way off. You go on up to
where the fire's burning. Get as near as you can, and see how fast
it's coming. Then work your way back to the rock and tell me what
you've seen."

"Right, oh!" said Pete. "I'm off, Jack!"

Though the smoke was thick, now, and oppressive, so that he coughed a
good deal, and his eyes ran and smarted from the acrid smell, Jack made
his way steadfastly toward the rock, which he reached without great
difficulty. He was perhaps a mile from the Scout camp, and there, he
knew, they were looking anxiously for the first flashing of his red and
white flags to announce that he was ready to report.

He stood out on the rock, and, after a minute of hard waving of his
flags, he caught the answer. Thus communication was established, and
he began to make his report. He had no fear of being misunderstood,
for it was Dick Crawford, the Assistant Scout-Master and his good
friend, who was holding the flags at the other end, and not some novice
who was getting practice in signaling, one of the pieces of Scout lore
in which Jack had speedily become an adept.

"Bad fire," he wig-wagged back. "Seems to be spreading fast. Ground
very bad. Likely to spread, I think. Fields full of stubble. No
water at all. Brooks and springs all dried up."

"Mr. Durland says have you warned men working in the fields?"

"Not yet," was the answer from Jack. "But they think it's all right,
and seem to think we're playing a game."

Then Jack dropped his flags in token of his desire to stop for a
minute, and tur