CHAPTER TWELVE

Trapped on the Hill

Several times during the next hour, Sandy heard the deep rumble of thunder, and a few minutes after three o’clock, the sun was blotted out by a low overcast. But the velocity of the wind had been steadily increasing, and the fire was raging more fiercely than ever. The backfires had been completely ineffective, and at three-fifteen, Jerry came puffing up the hill with the bad news.

“She’s breached the line. Lukas says there’s no holding her now. They’re going to evacuate.”

For some time, a sweeping curtain of smoke had obscured Sandy’s view of the fire front. And the reports he had received over the walkie-talkie from headquarters indicated that aerial observation was no better.

“I’d better wake up Dick,” he said. He went over to the ranger, who was still in a deep sleep, and shook him violently.

Dick Fellows raised himself laboriously on his elbows and listened glassy-eyed as Sandy told him the latest development. “I knew it! I knew it!” he mumbled. “All of it for nothing. In the end she was bound to beat us.” He struggled to his knees. “I’ll notify headquarters. You boys take one last scout down the line. Make certain all the men get out safely.”

At the bottom of the slope, Sandy turned and whistled to Prince, who was sniffing curiously at a half-eaten sandwich in the grass. “Better come with us, boy, so you don’t get left behind.”

With a yelp, the dog trotted after them.

A solid wall of fire blocked the first 600 feet of the trail that ran to the hill, and they had to detour more than a hundred yards into the woods. Machines and men crashed by them on all sides, hurrying in the opposite direction. As they neared the hill, they ran into Lukas.

“Where are you boys going?” he asked breathlessly.

“We’re supposed to make sure that everybody gets out safely,” Sandy told him.

“You’re wasting your time,” the Canadian said. “All my men are accounted for. We’ve lost her for good this time. She’s crowned and running fast on both flanks.”

“We’d better check anyway,” Sandy insisted.

“Don’t get caught on that hill,” Lukas warned them. “In another twenty minutes, the flanks will close and she’ll be cut off.”

“We’ll be careful,” Sandy promised. “Come on, Jerry.”

They ran on for another quarter of a mile without encountering anyone else. As they came abreast of the hill, Sandy stopped. Ahead of them was an impenetrable curtain of smoke, and beyond it they could hear the unmistakable crackle of flames.

“We’d better turn back,” Sandy said grimly. “If anyone is up there, they’re finished anyway.”

Jerry did an about-face without breaking step. “All you rabbits get out of the way and make room for somebody who can really run,” he bellowed.

“Wait a minute!” Sandy said. “Where’s that darn dog?”

“He’s probably back at headquarters hiding under a tent flap,” Jerry replied cynically. “The big coward. Come on, let’s go!” He reached out and grabbed Sandy’s arm.

The blond boy shook him off. “No, Jerry! He was here a minute ago.”

Cupping his hands to his mouth, he began to shout: “Prince! Prin-n-ce! Here, boy!” He put two fingers between his teeth and whistled shrilly.

There was a long silence. Then, from a distance, they heard the sharp, urgent barking of a dog.

Jerry groaned. “Good night! What’s he up to now?”

Sandy was perplexed. “Sounds like he’s over by the hill. But why?” Once more, he formed a megaphone with his hands and called to the dog. “_Prince! Come on, boy!_”

This time he was answered by a mournful howl.

Jerry’s voice was trembling. “Sandy, we’ve got to get out of here. You heard what Lukas said.”

The heat and smoke were stifling now, and the roar of the fire seemed to surround them.

Still Sandy hesitated. “Suppose Prince is hurt, Jerry?”

“He was here just a minute ago!” Jerry’s voice was frantic. “How could he get hurt?”

“Maybe he stepped into a trap.”

The other boy slapped one hand against the side of his head in exasperation. “Oh, brother! Look, I’m leaving, pal.” He turned and ran about ten paces, then looked back across his shoulder. “Aren’t you coming, Sandy?”

“You go on,” Sandy said stubbornly. “I’m going over to the hill and see what’s happened to Prince.”

“Sandy! Come back!” Jerry pleaded in desperation, as his friend disappeared into the thick brush. He hesitated for just an instant, then ran after him. “Hey, you dope! Wait for me!” he shouted.

Sandy had covered about 200 yards when he stumbled into ankle-deep water. He vaguely recalled one of the fire fighters mentioning that a stream ran around the east side of the hill. He continued on until he felt the ground rise sharply beneath his feet. Then he stopped and called out to the dog.

“Prince! Where are you, boy?”

Ahead of him, to the left, he heard loud barking. He followed the sound and broke out of the trees onto the abandoned fire line. Glancing to the left and right along the ten-foot strip, he saw a solid wall of fire on both sides where the flames had jumped the line. Roughly 1200 feet separated the twin fronts, but as the flames raced through the trees behind the hill, the gap was closing fast.

Sandy started as Prince’s head burst out of a thicket across the path from him. “There you are!” he said with relief. “What are you doing way over here? Come on, we’ve got to get out of the woods fast.”

Prince barked and backed into the thicket again.

“You stupid dog! _Come here!_” Sandy yelled. In a frenzy of anger, he dropped down on his hands and knees and charged into the thicket after the dog. He had gone about five feet when he came upon Prince standing over the still form of Quiz Taylor sprawled out on the ground. From the fire line he had been completely hidden by the thick foliage.

Sandy had a moment of overwhelming panic and confusion. Behind him, he heard Jerry calling to him. “Over here, Jerry,” he shouted as he stood up in the waist-deep brush.

Jerry stared at him incredulously from the center of the path. “What are you doing?”

“It’s Quiz,” Sandy said weakly. “He’s unconscious. Give me a hand. We’ve got to carry him out.”

Jerry turned pale. “Good night!” He struggled through the bushes to Sandy’s side and stared bug-eyed at Quiz. “Is he alive? What happened to him?”

“I think he’s alive. But I don’t know what happened to him. If it hadn’t been for Prince—” He didn’t finish the statement, but Jerry knew what he meant.

The boys managed to get Quiz on his feet, and by slinging one of his arms around each of their necks, they were able to drag him along between them. Their progress was painfully slow. Every few feet, vines, bushes and other impediments would snag on Quiz’s feet. And both Jerry and Sandy were physically exhausted from the night before. They had only gone as far as the stream when it became obvious to Sandy that the dead weight of the stout boy was too much for them.

“We’ll never make it, Jerry,” he gasped. “The fire will get us for sure.”

Jerry was on the verge of panic. “What’ll we do? We can’t leave him here.”

Sandy looked around frantically. “We’ve only got one chance. The hill. Maybe we can signal to the helicopter from the top.”

Jerry shook his head in despair. “They’ll never spot us through all this smoke.”

“Just the same,” Sandy insisted. “It’s our only chance. I heard one of the rangers say that forest fires often leave one side of a hill untouched.” Abruptly, his eyes fell on Prince, who was standing in the shallow water, whimpering and trembling. “Say, I’ve got an idea!” He rummaged in his pockets until he found the stub of a pencil. “You got anything I can write on, Jerry?”

“Here’s a piece of paper that’s blank on one side.” Jerry handed him a folded sheet on which Dick Fellows had scribbled a message the night before.

Sandy crouched down, and spreading the paper flat on his leg, he began printing in big block letters:

TRAPPED ON HILL. SEND HELP. SANDY

When he had finished the message, he sat down and began to unlace one boot.

“What the heck are you doing?” Jerry asked.

“I need the lace to fasten this note to Prince’s collar. The way he travels, he can make it out of here easily. If the note gets to Uncle Russ—or anybody for that matter—maybe they can notify the ’copter pilot that we’re on the hill. You’ve seen how they perform air rescues in the movies, haven’t you?”

Jerry’s voice wasn’t too hopeful. “Sure. They drop rope ladders or slings. But by the time they get this note—if they _ever_ do—we’ll be fried to a crisp.”

It took all of Sandy’s will power to force a feeble grin. “We’ll come out of this, pal. The most important thing to remember when you’re in a tight spot, Uncle Russ says, is to stay calm and cool; if you use your head there’s mostly always a way out.”

“Save your breath, Sandy. I’m so scared I could blubber.”

Sandy folded the paper several times until it was a tight little wad. Then he called the dog over to him. Wedging the paper into the leash ring on Prince’s leather collar, he bound it securely in place with the long thong from his boot. He took the Doberman’s slender muzzle between his two hands and looked straight into the intelligent brown eyes.

“Prince,” he said slowly, emphasizing each word. “Go ... to ... Uncle Russ ... Uncle Russ ... Understand? ... Find Uncle Russ ... That’s the boy.” He turned Prince around in the opposite direction and gave him a pat on the rump. “Go, boy!”

With a parting yelp, Prince streaked out of sight into the forest.

The crackle of the fire was louder now, and they could see it advancing through the treetops on both sides of them. The sky was completely blotted out by smoke, creating an artificial dusk.

“We’d better get back to the hill,” Sandy said.

“What do you say we soak ourselves in the stream?” Jerry suggested. “I heard somewhere that you can protect yourself from the heat and flying embers that way.”

“Good idea,” Sandy agreed. “Maybe the cold water will revive Quiz too.”

The two boys stretched out full length in the sluggish stream, turning over and over until their clothing was soaked back and front. Last of all, they pulled Quiz into the stream, splashing water on his face and head.

For the first time since they had found him, he showed signs of life—a soft moan and a fluttering of his eyelids.

“He’s got a lump the size of an egg on his head,” Sandy pointed out. He scooped up a handful of wet mud from the bed of the stream and plastered it on the swelling.

“Look, he’s coming to,” Jerry said.

Gradually, the injured boy’s eyes opened; they stared blankly into space for a few moments, then focused on the anxious faces hovering over him.

“Sandy ... Jerry ...” he said weakly. “Was I asleep?”

“You were out cold,” Sandy told him. He touched the lump on Quiz’s head gingerly. “Something must have conked you.”

Recollection flooded back to Quiz. “I climbed a tree to see if I could get a better look at the fire. A branch broke and that’s about all I remember.”

“Do you feel strong enough to walk?” Sandy asked him.

“I think so.” Suddenly his hands went to his eyes. “My glasses! Where are they? I can’t see two feet ahead of me without my glasses.”

Sandy winced. “I picked them up, Quiz. But I don’t think they’re going to do you much good.” He reached into his shirt pocket and took out a pair of woeful-looking eyeglasses. The frames were twisted like a pretzel and the lenses were spiderwebbed with tiny shatters.

Quiz accepted them glumly. By twisting and bending the pliable frames, he was finally able to wear them, though they perched on his nose at a rakish angle. In spite of their predicament, Sandy and Jerry had to laugh.

“You look like a cockeyed owl,” Jerry said.

“Nobody asked you,” Quiz growled. He squinted through the shattered lenses. “It’s like looking through cheesecloth. But it’s better than nothing.”

A blast of scorching air hit Sandy on the side of his face. Because of the smoke and the thickness of this portion of the woods, it was impossible to tell exactly how far away the fire was, but he knew it couldn’t be too far.

“Come on, boys, we’ve got to get back to the hill.”

Quiz’s mind was still a bit hazy. “Hill?” he demanded. “You mean the ridge?”

Briefly Sandy described how the fire had out-flanked them.

“We’re cut off,” Jerry said with a note of doom in his voice. “Surrounded by fire.”

Quiz swallowed hard. “There must be _something_ we can do.” He snapped his fingers as a thought hit him. “Wait a minute! Macauley’s men left a pile of shovels, hoes and picks behind when they were relieved by the Canadians. We can clear a line in the grass on this side of the hill and start a backfire.”

“What are we waiting for?” Sandy said. He led the way out of the forest, which ended about ten yards beyond the abandoned fire line. Directly ahead, the hill rose up like an oversized haystack.

Quiz pointed to a stack of digging implements off to one side. “There’s the stuff I was telling you about. But first let’s go up to the top and have a look around.” He started up the steep, grassy slope that ran up about 200 feet to the summit.

The top of the hill was littered with rocks of all sizes and shapes. The boys scrambled up on an enormous boulder, where they had a bird’s-eye view of the surrounding countryside. Up here, the force of the wind was so great that they had to crouch on hands and knees to keep from being toppled over. On the west slope, a slow but determined grass fire was burning all around the base of the hill. But they had never seen anything to match the fury of the crown fire raging all around them. A quarter of a mile behind the hill, the twin fronts had finally united, sealing off the last corridor of escape. They were now literally isolated on an island in the midst of a sea of flame. A shifting current of air sent a hail of hot coals and blazing twigs raining down on the hill.

“Ouch!” Jerry beat out a spark that was sizzling on the wet material of his pants.

Smoke spiraled up from several spots on the grassy slope away from the fire.

“Come on!” Sandy yelled, leaping off the boulder. “We’ve got to beat those out before they really get started.” He ran down the slope to the nearest place where the grass was smoldering and stomped on the sparks with his boots.

Jerry went to another danger spot farther down the slope, while Quiz spotted one in a patch of heavy brush far to the left. As Quiz leaped feet-first into the bushes, Sandy, who was looking in that direction, was startled to see his friend unexpectedly disappear as if the earth had swallowed him. He heard the rattle of falling earth and stones, followed by a cry of pain.

“Quiz!” he shouted in alarm, and started over in that direction.