"A joke!" exclaimed the stranger, frowning.

"It's the literal truth--and a most terrible truth, at that."

"I don't understand," said Lew, slowly. "How can fire burn water? I
supposed the lack of snow last winter and of rain this spring had made the
brook shrink."

"Not for a minute, young man, not for a minute. If fires hadn't swept this
valley the past two or three years, there would have been plenty of water
in the run, rain or no rain."

"I--I don't exactly understand," said Lew hesitatingly.

"It's like this," said the stranger. "The forest floor is like a great
sponge. The decayed leaves and twigs are so light and porous that they
soak up most of the rain as it falls and hold the water indefinitely. That
keeps the springs full, and the springs feed the brooks, and so there is
water all the year round. It is nature's method of storing up water. When
a fire sweeps through the forest, especially such awful fires as have gone
through this valley, the leaves and twigs above ground are burned, and
even the roots and the decaying vegetable matter under the earth are
consumed. Nothing is left but mineral matter--particles of rock, stones,
sand, and the like. The rain will no longer sink into the ground, nor will
the earth hold the water as the rotting leaves do. Then when it rains, the
water runs off as fast as it falls. The brooks are flooded for a few hours
and then they dry up until another rain comes. So you see I meant exactly
what I said. This trout-stream was burned up by the forest fires.
Likewise many of the trout were burned up with it, for in places the fire
made the water hotter than trout can stand. Thousands of them were