The Yakima herald. [volume] (North Yakima, W.T. [Wash.]) 1889-1914, 1906-10-10

| uuring the night, ana tne FOREST WOrlQ
had taken on new beauty. But it grew
hot and oppressive as the hours passed.
The smoke thickened once more. At
| first he tried TO believe 1t was only his
| fancy. Then the wind shifted into the
east and the woods became noticeably
clearer He pushed ahead with renew.
| ed hope. This change in the wind was
good sign. Ii IL ever got into the
| south II would drive the fire back on
| itself.
He tramped for half the night and
threw himself down and slept heavily
| the sleep of utter exhaustion and
WEAKNESS. 1t was broad day when he
opened his eyes. The first sound he
heard was the dull roar Of the flames.
He turned with hunted. fugitive look
toward the west. \ bright light shone
through the trees. The fire was creep
ing around ana already encircled him
on two sides. His feeling was one of
bitter disappointment; fear too, min
gled with il. In the south We're Ryder's
friends Dannie's enemies and his OF
the east he had a horror which the
study of his map did not tend to allay;
there were towns there and settle
ments, thickly scattered Finally he
concluded he would go forward and ex-
anime the line of fire. There might be
some means by which he could make
his way through 1t.
A journey of two miles brought him
to small water course. The fire was
burning along the opposite bank. 1t
blazed among the scrub and under
brush and leaped from tree to tree,
first to shrivel their foliage to a dead,
dry brown and then envelop them in
sheets of flame. The cracking was
like the report of musketry.
Roger Oakley was awed by the sight
In spite of the smoke and heat he sat
! down OH the trtnl, Of a fallen pine to
| rest. Some birds fiuttered out Of the
| rolling masses of smoke above his head
| and flew south with shrill cries of
| alarm. A deer crossed the stream, not
| 200 yards from where he sat- at q sin
| gle bound Next two large timber
wolves entered the water. They land
ed within Il stones throw of him and
| trotted leisurely off. The heat soon
drove him from his position. and he
| too, sought refuge In the south. The
wall OF flame cut him off from the
north and west, and to the east he
would not go.
There was something tragic in this
blocking of his way. He wondered II
1t was not the Lords wish after all that
he should be taken. This thought had
| been troubling him for some time. Then
he remembered Dannie = Dannie, to
whom he had brought only shame and
sorrow. He set his lips with grim de-
| termination. Right or wrong, the
Lords vengeance would have to wait.
Perhaps he would understand the stu
alton. He prayed that he might.
Twenty-four hours later and he had
turned westward with the desperate
hope that he could cross out Of the
| path of the fire. but the hope proved
| futile There was no help for It, To
the east he must go If he would escape.
1t was the towns and settlements he
| feared most, and the people. Perhaps
| they still continued the search. When
| he left the wilderness the one precau-
!
only by night This plan when it was
firmly fixed in his mind greatly encour-
| aged him. But al the end of ten hours
| Of steady tlamping lie discovered that
I the fire surrounded him on three sides.
Still he did not despair.
| For two days he lodged from east
| to west, and each day the wall Of
flame and smoke drew closer about
! him, and the distances in which he
moved became less and less And now
q great fear of Antioch possessed him.
| The railroad ran nearly due east and
| west from Buckhorn Junction to Har-
| rison, a distance Of ninety-five miles.
Beyond the road the country was well
| settled. There were thriving farms
| and villages TO pass through such O
country without being seen was next
his strength fail him, and with 1t went
his courage 1t was only the thought
Of Dannie that kept him on the alert
Happen what might. he would not be
taken. 1t should go hard with the
man or men who made the attempt.
| He told himself this not boastfully,
but with quiet conviction In SO far
as he could, as the fire crowded him
back, he avoided the vicinity Of An
| tioch and inclined toward Buckhorn
Junction.
There was need of constant vigilance
now, as he was IN a sparsely settled
| section One night some men passed
quite near TO the fringe of tamarack
| swamp where he was camped. Luck
| ily the underground was dense, and
bis fire had burned TO a few red en-
bers. On another occasion, Just at
dusk. he stumbled into a small clear
ing and within plain view OF the win
dows of a log cabin. AS he leaped
back into the woods a man with q
cob pipe in his mouth came to the door
of the cabin.
| Roger Oakley. with the hickory stan
which he had cut that day held firmly
In his hands and fierce, wild look on
his face, watched him from his cover.
/ thc, Il. 49,