Worcester Democrat and the ledger-enterprise., 1937-11-12
CHAPTER 16

AA~~~~
ster. Wearily he lowered his lids
against the sight. But slowly, deep
er and deeper into his grudgingly
awakening consciousness the know
ledge that the air contained peculiar,
horror-laden bite, queer, unpleasant
soaring quality which invaded his
every nasal passage-and which at
last forced itself to his dulled brain.
This acrid odor was like the odor of
death; suddenly woodsmen instincts
were awakened, sharply and with ter
ror. The smell of fire!
Realization full upon him, he strove
to rise, only to drop to his knees and
weave uncertainty there. At last he
began to crawl. From behind him,
outside the cabin, had come peculiar,
shifting crackle, ending in putting
roar, as flame, now eating through
the cracked window into the tangled
bush, swept up the dry bark of dead
spruce, leaped to the resinous top of
a full-needled tree and there explod-
ed.
1t gave Hammond the strength of
terror, calling into play all the high
ability bred in him by years of tremen
dous activity. Jack Hammond. came
from a phase of existence where life
depended upon huge reservoirs of
-%1 HI
to lose their horrible WEAKNESS.
He gained his feet and reeled to the
door. 1t yielded to the plunging weight
of his body; he half stumbled, half
fell outside, into world of red.
But ,as yet, there was more noise
and smoke and color than danger. He
shook his head, as if to clear it from
painful cobwebs. Dazedly he looked
about him, arms loose, shoulders sag
ging. His bloody jaws contorted.
Then he weaved into the trail.
Soon he had gained the strength
to increase his speed to dogtrot. The
wind was spreading the fire swiftly
behind him; now no longer were there
long intervals between the creeping
advance of the flame and the putting
outburst as it reached tree top. The
sound was almost continuous; the for
est was lighted as if by flares. Ham
mond moved more swiftly. Both his
brain and his fatigue were clearing.
But at last he slowed his pace, his
head cooked inquiringly.
1t came again, and for third time,
the agonized outcry of a man, some
where deep to the right. Hammond
started along the trail anew, only
once more to halt. There was the cry
again, of someone in terrific pain;
Hammond instinctively turned in it's
direction.
A short period of search followed;
at last he began to follow the filmy
outlines of game trail, winding in
rambling fashion through the bush.
He shouted; a groan answered him
from only short distance ahead.
Hammond obeyed the call, and round
ing a tangle of sapling spruce, stood
staring.
Lew Slade lay there, writhing in
agony on the ground. He shrank at
the sight of Hammond.
"You got out ?" he gasped.
"Yes, got out!" Temptation told
him to go on; to leave this man where
he lay-but it was only temptation.
"Come on-get out of here" he COM
manded jerkily. ''That fires coming
fast!"
The mans tongue protruded. His
eyes were set with pain
"Get this thing off my leg!" he beg
ged. Before I bleed to death"
Hammond moved swiftly forward
In the red light of the forest fire, the
blood-smeared underbrush where Slade
had threshed about seemed painted
as with purple ink. Slade was hold.
ing himself off the ground by hi:
hands; both legs were useless, queerly
loosely twisted; his ankles wer'
caught, one behind the other, in the
heavy jaws of an immense, double
spring bear trap. A chain clinked un
der Hammond's feet leading to {
heavy log, which some prospector
trapper had fastened to the trap as s
deadfall. Even in spite of it's weight
Jack saw that Slade, in his despera
ton, had dragged it a few feet
"Get me out of it." the wounded
man pleaded "My legs have gone deae
on me-I'm bleeding my life out"
For a moment, Hammond forgot en-
nifty. Slade was only a weak, trap.