The Anderson intelligencer. [volume] (Anderson Court House, S.C.) 1860-1914, 1891-08-27
A Prairie Fire.

All night we have seen red glow in
the northwest. 1t is a prairie fire but
it is miles away. The harvest has been
late this year and our wheat is still in
shock on the dry stubble. But we have
turned thirty furrows about the field
fifteen burrows and fifteen more twenty
feel from the first-and burned off the
dry grass between. It is an excellent
fre.break, although these prairie fires
have been known to "jump" greater dis
tances than this.
There is yet no call for worry. The
fire is miles from US, there is no wind and
for the present, at least, we are safe.
The next day, however, brings a
change in the situation. The sun shines
like an indistinct fiery ball through q
hazy atmosphere. The wind is refresh
ing-it is growing to gale and, oh, hap
less fortune it drives the fire toward us
Rains have been plentiful the past
summer. The grass everywhere has
grown rank and high. But the Sun has
dried it into tinder and it only awaits
the brand Sto leap into flames of de-
struction.
See Those little charred embers that
fall about us are from the fire. 1t is ap.
preaching us and the haze grows heavier
about the heavens. The sun is q mere
flush of yellow in the zenith and we smell
the burning grass.
There is no time to be lost. Run
Harness four horses to breaking ploW
and let US turn up wider furrows about
the house-our home! With tingling
of nerves and smothered feeling at the
throat we begin.
The first furrow is hardly completed
when neighbor with his family and q
few household goods piled in the wagon
drives past.
"stop ploughipg FIRE breaks-it is use
leas-the fire is the worst ever known
there is no fighting it-Logan County
is all burned over-hy! fly for your lives
Our very horses catch the terror o.
that warning. They rear and plunge
and will not pull the plow another inch
Can nothing be done? We look
around us in desperation. We can hear
the cracking of the fire now, and see the
smoke tumbling and writhing in the
fierce wind.
But the calamity is at our very door
the air is depressing hot-we must 60
The snorting horses are hitched to the
wagon, into which a few odds and ends
of the household furniture are thrown
and then-we look around to say fare
well to home.
Home! 1t is rude. house, built Of
rough boards and tar.papered on the out.
side for protection against the wet. A
poor place, indeed, but yet we have work.
ed for it and struggled, and toiled and
lived in it; it was built with our OWL
hands and sanctihed with our own hearts
and shall we leave it?
mol
Unhitch the horses and tie them se-
cureIy in the barn then we will fight
to the bitter end.
The flames are close upon us, now
and coming with race-horse speed. Oh
what a wind! Will the fire. breaks pro-
tect the wheat field? We have our an.
swer in the next minute when like a
huge, gaunt monster, the fire pauses an
instant to lick its red jaws and then
leaps upon the stubble and we see shock
after shock of golden grain melt into its
capacious nav.
So goes the fruit Of one long years
toll in brief moment-but ne have nc
time to weep for the fire is dangerously
near the house.
Then what battle do We wage
Here, there, at every point, we meet the
red demon and fight with the desperation
of life and death. Our faces are set
and clothes and hands are burned, but
we throw ourselves like madmen into
the hottest portions of that seething fur
mace, and at last we conquer but fall
scorched and lifeless upon the field O.
battle. Still, our home is saved, and a:
for the crop that once stood on that black
ened neld-why mourn for what is gone
Our hopes must center about the yeal
to come.- William Wallace Cook IN De
krojt F5.ee Press.