Rogue River courier. (Grants Pass, Or.) 1886-1927, 1907-05-17
ation. He prayed that he might.

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 II. 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-
ton he could take would be to travel
only by night. This plan when 1t was
firmly fixed in his mind greatly encour-
aged him. But at the end Of ten hours
Of steady tramping he discovered that
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
a great fear Of Antioch possessed him.
The railroad ran nearly due east and
west from Buckhorn Junction to Har-
rison, distance OF ninety-five miles.
Beyond the road the country was well
settled. There were thriving farms
and villages. To pass through such a
country without being seen was next
to impossible. He felt measure of
his strength fail him. and with 1t went
his courage 1t was only the thought
~ In hof i.nsAt 1,tVn tho n lnrf
Happen what might, lie would not be
taken. II 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
tloch and inclined toward Buckhorn
Junction.
There was need of constant vigilance
now, as he was in n sparsely settled
section. One night some men passed
quite near to the fringe of tamarack
swamp where he was camped. Luck
lily the underground was dense, and
his fire had burned TO few red en-
bers. On another occasion, just at
dusk. he stumbled into small clear
ing and within plain view of the win
dows OF log cabin. As he leapcd
back into the woods man with n
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
Presently the man turned back into the
house, closing the door after him.
These experiences startled and alarm.
ed him. He grew gaunt and haggard
n terrible WEAKNESS oppressed bin. his
mind became confused. and sort OF
panic seized him. His provisions had
failed him, but an occasional cultivat.
ed field furnished corn and potatoes In
spite of the serious mlsgiyngs he felt
concerning the moral aspect of these
nightly depredations. When he raided
a spring house and carried of eggs and
butter and milk he was able TO leave
money behind. He conducted these
transactions with scrupulous honesty
He had been living in the wilderness
three weeks, when at last the fire drove
him from cover at Buckhorn Junction.
As n town the Junction was largely a
fiction. There were railroad crossing,
a freight shed and the depot and per-
haps a score Of houses scattered along
a sandy stretch OF country road.
The b. and A. had Its connection with
the NJ. and W. at this point. II was also
the beginning of a rich agricultural
district. and the woods gave place to
cultivated fields and farm lands.
ITO be Continued)