Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1890-09-11
A PRAIRIE FIRE
Graphic Description of Thrilling Expert
ence on the Plains
60 be continued.)

ence on the Plains.
Detroit Free Fress: We all sprung up
to see one OF the saddle horses-a veteran
In years and Notwithstanding with
his head high In the air and pointed due
west. While he looks as fxedly as if his
eyes had lost their power to turn, his nos
| trils culver and dilate with excitement.
We watch him full miunte. Hew the
first to exhibit alarm. but now one
horse after another throws up his head
and looks to the west.
Its fire, boys"
Had it been night we should have seen
the reflection. Had there been a strong
wind the odor would have come to us
sooner. There is only gentle breeze
languishing, dying under the fierce sun,
but resurrected and given new lease of
life at Intervals by an unknown power.
But now we can see the smoke driving
heavenward and shutting the blue of the
vest from Our v:sion-now the horses
show signs that no man could mistake.
A great wall of fame fifty miles In length
Is rolling toward US, famed and driven by
a breeze of its own creation, but coming
slowly and grandly. 1t takes two or three
minutes to climb up to the top of one of
these trees, and from my elevated position
| can get grand view of the wave o. fire
which is driving before it everything that
| lives and can move.
We work fast. blankets are wet at the
spring and hung up between the trees to
make a bulwark against the sparks and
smoke, the horses doubly secured, camp
! equipage piled up and covered, and be-
| fore we could think we had visitors. Ten
or twelve buffaloes come laundering
bo L,lI 10 re-, oh al
crowding as close to the horses as they
could and showing no fear at our presence
| Next come three or four antelopes, their
bright eyes bulging out with fear, and their
nostrils blowing out the heavy odor with
sharp snorts. One rubs against me and
ticks my hand
| Yelp! Yelp! Here are half dozen VOL
yes, which crowd among the buffaloes and
| trembe with terror, and score of serpents
race over the open ground to seek the wet
| ditch which carries off the overflow of the
spring. Last to come. and only a mile
ahead of the wave, which is licking up
everything in its path is a mustang-a
! single animal which has somehow been
separated from his herd. He comes from
the north, racing to reach the grove be-
fore the fire shall cut him off, and he runs
! for his life. With his ears laid back, nose
pointing and his eyes fixed on the goal,
| MS pace is that of a thunderbolt. He
leaps clear over one pile Of camp outfit and
goes ten yards beyond before he can check
himself Then he comes trotting back
and crowds between two of our horses
with a low Whinny.
There is a roar like Niagara. The
tsmo Ike draws over us IN a pail like mid
night. The air seems TO be one sheet Of
fame. The wave has swept up to the
edge of the bare ground, and is dividing
to pass us by We are In an oven. The
horses snort, and cough, and plunge, the
wolves howl and moan as the heat and
smoke become intolerable Thus for five
minutes, and then relief comes. The flame
has passed., and the smoke is driving
away. In this path is a cool breeze, every
Whit of which is grand elixir.
In ten minutes the grove is so clear of
smoke that we can see every foot of earth
again. A queer sight tits. It has been
the haven refuge for snakes, lizards, 60
pliers, prairie dogs, rabbits, coyotes, VOL
yes, antelopes, deer, buffaloes, horses and
men-enmity, antipathy, and hunger
suppressed for the nonce that all live-that
each might escape the fend in pursuit.
For half an hour nothing moves. The
mustang filings up his head, blows the
last of the smoke from bis nostrils, and
starts off with flourish of his heels. The
| buffaloes go next, the deer and the anti
lope follow, and in five min
utes we are all left alone
For fifty miles to the north. west, and
south there is nothing but blackness-s
landscape of despair. Away to the east
| the wall of fire is still moving on and on,
impacable, relentless, fend whose har-
dest is death, and whose trail is destruc-
| ion