Part 24 (2/2)

Up through the blazing woods he started with the leaden weight of this dripping winding sheet upon him and catching in the hubbly obstructions in his path. The water streamed down his face and he felt the chill of it as it permeated his clothes, but that was well--it was his only friend and ally now.

Like some ghostly bride he stumbled up through the lurid night, dragging the unwieldly train behind him. Apparently no one saw this strange apparition as it disappeared amid the enveloping flames.

”Tom--whar's Tom?” called Jeb Rushmore again.

Up the hill he went, tearing his dripping armor when it caught, and pausing at last to lift the soaking train and wind that about him also.

The crackling flames gathering about him like a pack of hungry wolves hissed as they lapped against his wet shroud, and drew back, baffled, only to a.s.sail him again. The trail was narrow and the flames close on either side.

Once, twice, the drying fabric was aflame, but he wrapped it under wetter folds. His face was burning hot; he strove with might and main against the dreadful faintness caused by the heat, and the smoke all but suffocated him.

On and up he pressed, stooping and sometimes almost creeping, for it was easier near the ground. Now he held the drying canvas with his teeth and beat with his hands to extinguish the persistent flames. His power of resistance was all but gone and as he realized it his heart sank within him. At last, stooping like some sneaking thing, he reached the spa.r.s.er growth near the cut.

Two boys who had been driven to the verge of the precipice and lingered there in dread of the alternative they must take, saw a strange sight. A dull gray ma.s.s, with two ghostly hands reaching out and slapping at it, and a wild-eyed face completely framed by its charred and blackening shroud, emerged from amid the fire and smoke and came straight toward them.

”What is it?” whispered the younger boy, drawing closer to Garry in momentary fright at the sight of this spectral thing.

”Don't jump--it's me--Tom Slade! Here, take this rope, quick. I guess it isn't burned any. I meant to wet it, too,” he gasped. ”Is that tree solid? I can't seem to see. All right, quick! I can't do it. Make a loop and put it under his arms and let him down.”

There was not a minute to spare, and no time for explanations or questions. Garry lowered the boy into the cut.

”Now you'll have to let me down, I'm afraid,” said Tom. ”My hands are funny and I can't--I can't go hand over hand.”

”That's easy,” said Garry.

But it was not so easy as it had been to lower the smaller boy. He had to encircle the tree twice with the rope to guard against a too rapid descent, and to smooth the precipice where the rope went over the edge to keep it from cutting. When Tom had been lowered into the cut, Garry himself went down hand over hand.

It was cool down there, but they could hear the wild flames raging above and many sparks descended and died on the already burned surface. The air blew in a strong, refres.h.i.+ng draught through the deep gully, and the three boys, hardly realizing their hair-breadth escape, seemed to be in a different world, or rather, in the cellar of the world above, which was being swept by that heartless roistering wind and fire.

Along through the cut they came, a dozen or more scarred and weary scouts, their clothing in tatters, anxious and breathing heavily. They had come by the long way around the edge of the woods and got into the cut where the hill was low and the gully shallow.

”Is anyone there?” a scout called, as they neared the point above which Hero Cabin had stood. They knew well enough that no one could be left alive above.

”We're here,” called Garry.

”Hurt? Did you jump--both of you?”

”Three, the kid and I and Tom Slade.”

”Tom Slade? How did _he_ get here?”

”Came up through the woods and brought us a rope. _We're_ all right, but he's played out. Got a stretcher?”

”Sure.”

They came up, swinging their lanterns, to where Tom lay on the ground with Garry's jacket folded under his head for a pillow, and they listened soberly to Garry's simple tale of the strange, shrouded apparition that had emerged from the flames with the precious life line coiled about its neck.

It was hard to believe, but there were the cold facts, and they could only stand about, silent and aghast at what they heard.

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