"Hey! He's starting a forest fire!" gasped Dan Dalzell, as he
caught sight of young Prescott bending over the dried, yellowish
grass.

"Scatter, all along the strip!" shouted Prescott, rising as soon
as he had ignited a clump of grass. "Get this whole strip of
burned grass blazing. It's the only chance to save the camp---or
ourselves!"

Dalzell shivered. Nor could Dan understand how such a course
would serve to save their camp. But he saw the others following
their leader's orders.

"Get over the ground, Dan!" bellowed Dick, as he sprinted to another
point. "Start a lot of blazes!"

So Danny Grin fell in line with the movements of the others, though
he felt not a little doubt as to the wisdom of the course.

Flame was now spurting up over more than an acre of the sun-baked
strip of grass.

"Get a lot more of the grass going, fellows!" panted Dick, who
was working like a beaver and dripping with perspiration. "It's
our only hope. Hustle!"

With the flames arose a dense cloud of smoke. As the wind was
from the southwest the smoke was in the faces of the onrushing
cattle.