iterally threw him into the saddle. "You're played, boy!" he shouted in
his foreman's ear. "Ride down to the river and get into the water, and
stay there until you know we can win!"

Then Transley threw himself into the fight. As the men said afterwards,
Linder fought like a wildcat, but Transley fought like a den of lions.
When the wagon galloped up from the river with barrels of water Transley
seized a barrel at the end and set it bodily on the ground. He sprang
into the wagon, shouting commands to horses and men. A hundred yards
they galloped along the fighting front; then Transley sprang out and set
another barrel on the ground. In this way, instead of having the men all
coming to the wagon to wet their sacks, he distributed water along the
line. Then they turned back, picked up the empty barrels, and galloped
to the river for a fresh supply.

Soon they had the first mile secure. The backfires had all met; the
forward line of flames had all been pounded out; the rear line had
burned back until there was no danger of it jumping the burned space.
Then Transley picked up his kit and rushed it on to a new front farther
south. At intervals of a hundred yards he started fires, holding them in
check and beating out the western edge as before.

But his difficulties were increasing. He was farther from the river.
It took longer to get water. One of the barrels fell off and collapsed.
Some of the men were playing out. The horses were wild with excitement
and terror. The smoke was growing denser and hotter. Men were coughing
and gasping through dry, seared lips.

"You can't hold it, Transley; you can't hold it!" said one of the men.

Transley hit him from the shoulder. He crumpled up and collapsed.

A mile and a half had been made safe, but the smoke was suffocatingly
thick and the roar of the oncoming fire rose above the shouts of the
fighters. Up galloped the water wagon; made a sharp lurch and turn,
and a front wheel collapsed with the shock. The wagon went down at one
corner and the barrels were dumped on the ground.

The men looked at Transley. For one moment he surveyed the situation.

"Is there a chain?" he demanded. There was.

"Hitch on to the tire of this broken wheel. Some of you men yank the hub
out of it. Others pull grass. Pull, like hell was after you!"

They pulled. In a minute or two Transley had the rim of the wheel flat
on the ground, with a team hitched to it and a little pile of dry grass
inside.