The Adair County news., 1922-06-27

LudL was DcinB puSneO nhu loAI uO IiAuc
for anything else.
Backfring was impossible, for the
wind came up the cleared road from
the muskeg with hurricane force. VIII
ton posted his men along the near side
of the way, to beat out the patches Of
flame that would spring up from the
burning brands carried over 1t by the
wind.
The cOnflagratiOn came roaring
down on them before many minutes
had passed. 1t seemed to gather force
as it advanced. The smoke was sti-
fling. They could see one another
only dimly in the swirling fog.
The line Of fire shot through the
cracking ferns and underground be-
fore them, and reached the edge OF
the cleared way. Then the workers
found themselves surrounded with a
ring of flame. The trees and grass
were alight behind them. And along
the muskeg edge the confagration had
thrust out gripping tentacles of flame
| that edged round and In toward the
| engine-sheds.
Shouting to those nearest him to fol-
low, Wilton ran down toward the
swamp. But when the grade came
into sight he saw something that
caught his cry and killed it on his lips.
OF a sudden his veins seemed to run
ice for blood. The fire had caught the
trestling and was running along the
timbers, eating its way toward the
east bank.
But what made him catch his breath
and clench his fists was this: the fire
was moving eastward and yet it could
not have started on the west bank, for
here the trestling was completely hid
den under the foundation, over which
the flames could not pass. The fire
had started in the middle of the mus
keg, and had been started there OF
design.
1t was the end of everything. Big
Muskeg would remain unspanned after
all, when Bowyer assumed control.
The engine-houses were fire-red ru-
ins, belching up black, sticky smoke
that clogged the fighters lungs and
settled in fine particles Of black dust
all over them. Drums of oil and gaso-
line exploded with the salyoes Of ar
tillery, shooting up streamers Of fame
sky-high. Rivulets Of fire broke forth
and streamed through the camp,
spreading the destruction.
The encircling arms Of the confia-
grafton had thrust their fingers all
about them through the forest, which
was ablaze in every direction. But
in the open space itself the fire had
been stayed, though hardly anything
was left except the kitchens and
bunk-houses. The sheds and engine
houses had gone up in a few minutes,
and now glOwed fiercely with an in
tense heat, but without flame.
The fighters had done all they
could do, and that was nothing. They
could do nothing more now, except to
guard the bunk-houses from the rivers
of blazing oil. Wilton found a few
men and told them to take spades and
throw up mounds along the courses Of
| these torrents, in order to divert them.
The Hunkies, mad with drink, gath
cred in clusters at the doors of the
bunk-hOuses and jeered at the men
who fought to save them; and these,
too discOnSOlate to care, having at
last secured the remaining structures,
flung down their spades and drew out
of their way. Everyone knew this was
| the end.
Out of the smoke came the figure
of MCGEE, the head locomotive engi-
neer. His hair was crisped like a ne
grO's-he was as black, and the tears
had furrOwed white channels down his
| cheeks.
ITS all gOne." he shouted. Moth
Ing buT scrap-irOn and junk. Wen
have a bargain sale!" He recognized
Wilton and seized him by the arm.
"Who set that blazer" he screamed.
Man, there was gasoline, gallons Of
It, soaking the sheds before ever the
fire come there. They were soaked
with it. Who did it? Show me the
d-n skunk :" he shouted, half beside
himself
1T doesn't matter now," said Will
ton.
MCGEE raved, cursing and sObbing,
and suddenly rushed away into the
smoke and was lost to view.
Wilton was making his way toward
his shack before it occurred to him
that he would not find it. Yet there
was the safe. He would stay guard
over that. To his immense surprise.
however, he discovered that the shack
had escaped the cOnfagratiOn, though
nothing remained of Kitty's but a few
blackened beams. A backfire had
been set successfully. The grass was
burned all about the place, and some
of the timbers were scOrched, but that
was all. The shack was an oasis in
the devastation of cinders. Jules
hal stuck to his post.
Wilton knew there had been treach-
cry. He knew that Bowyer's appear
ance at the portage had not been
chance. BOwyer had not driven miles
from Cold Junction by coincidence.
Wilton had no doubt that the fire was
of his making.
And even that did not matter.