suffocating, but it struck the major that the more they approached the
actual scene of conflagration the heat and smoke became less, until he
saw that the fire was retreating before them and the following wind.
In a few moments their haven of safety--the expanse already burnt
over--came in sight. Here and there, seen dimly through the drifting
smoke, the scattered embers that still strewed the forest floor glowed
in weird nebulous spots like will-o'-the-wisps. For an instant the major
hesitated; the sheriff cast a significant glance behind them.

"Go on; it's our only chance," he said imperatively.

They darted on, skimming the blackened or smouldering surface, which at
times struck out sparks and flame from their heavier footprints as they
passed. Their boots crackled and scorched beneath them; their shreds
of clothing were on fire; their breathing became more difficult, until,
providentially, they fell upon an abrupt, fissure-like depression of the
soil, which the fire had leaped, and into which they blindly plunged and
rolled together. A moment of relief and coolness followed, as they crept
along the fissure, filled with damp and rotting leaves.

"Why not stay here?" said the exhausted prisoner.

"And be roasted like sweet potatoes when these trees catch," returned
the sheriff grimly. "No." Even as he spoke, a dropping rain of
fire spattered through the leaves from a splintered redwood, before
overlooked, that was now blazing fiercely in the upper wind. A vague and
indefinable terror was in the air. The conflagration no longer seemed
to obey any rule of direction. The incendiary torch had passed
invisibly everywhere. They scrambled out of the hollow, and again dashed
desperately forward.