The Pioneer Boys of the Ohio; or, Clearing the Wilderness

by St. George Rathborne

  CHAPTER XVIII

  AFTER THE FOREST FIRE

  THE old tree trunk was slowly giving way to the demands of Nature. Ithad a split up and down one side, where doubtless the wood was rottingaway. Bob could see out of it--see the gray, smoky landscape, stilllighted by flashes of fire. During the progress of the fire he had evenwatched the roaring whirlwind sweep past; and then forgotten all aboutthis crevice in his mad desire to climb up to the hole that served asthe bear's exit.

  The thought that came to him was this--that perhaps with the aid of hissharp hunting knife, and a set determination to bring about results,he might manage to enlarge this narrow opening enough to admit of hisbursting forth!

  He did not lose another second in wondering whether it could be done.There was absolutely nothing else for him to try, if he hoped to keepfrom being slowly suffocated in that prison cell. He could do it, he_must_ do it!

  When he set to work, he found at once that the wood was inclined to besoft and wormy, especially close to the crack. Time had overcome thehardness of the oak, and under his vigorous assault it fairly crumbledaway in sections.

  After what may have been a minute's labor but which seemed much longer,Bob was able to thrust his whole arm through the cleft he had made.

  At that rate he would soon be free. The very thought gave him newenergy, and he went at the task even more fiercely than before. Butsomehow his rate of progress did not seem to increase in proportion tothe extra vim he threw into the work.

  Evidently the deeper he cut, the harder the wood became. It was decayedonly along the crevice!

  Realizing this, he now turned his attention to the other side, and fora brief time all went smoothly, progress being rapid. Now he could eventhrust a leg out of his cell. Twice that dimension, and the gap wouldbe large enough to admit of the passage of his entire body.

  But surely it was getting much hotter inside the stump. The fire hadtaken hold in earnest. He believed that the flames must be curlingaround the old tree, and mounting upward while they fed upon the deadwood.

  It mattered not just then that his hand grew sore from constantfriction with the rough buck-horn handle of his knife. Such littlethings could not count when everything depended on his making a successof his effort.

  Just then Bob needed all the encouragement he could find. He realizedthis, and to try and cheer up his drooping spirits he started talkingto himself while he worked, even laughing from time to time.

  It encouraged him, and could do no harm.

  "That was a good slice, Bob!" he went on, just as though it might behis mother speaking, "Keep it up, my boy! You're just bound to breakout of this smoke-stack soon! Nothing can stop you, now you've gotstarted in the right direction. Hey! almost dropped my knife outsidethat time. Gracious! what if it had gone beyond my reach! You must bemore careful after this, Robert, my lad!"

  He sliced away, and the opening grew wider; but, oh! how slowly itsdimensions increased, and how much hotter did the air seem all aroundhim!

  Was it fated that he should be smothered here, suffocated by thepungent smoke that caught his breath, and seemed to choke him? He wouldnot allow himself to give way to even the thought of such a horriblething.

  "Sure you will get through, Bob!" he shouted, as he kept working awaywith every atom of strength. "Why, the hole must be mighty near bigenough now for you to slip through. Sandy could do it, I know, and I'mnot much stouter than he. Just hold out a little longer, boy! Keep atit, and success must come."

  His knife was no longer keen, since its working edge had been worn awayagainst the tough wood; but, under the efforts Bob put into his work,it still sliced off shavings with every downward movement.

  He thrust his head forward, more in the desire to suck in some of theouter air than because he expected to be able to pass it through theopening.

  A thrill shook his whole frame when he found that he could thus thrusthis head completely out of the prison cell. Seized with a new hope hebegan wriggling his body sideways, his right shoulder first of allbeing pushed through.

  And though it proved a tremendous task, and a tight fit, Bob managedto press completely through the narrow aperture! He fell in a heap onthe ground, almost done for, yet with a feeling of thanksgiving. Andhis second thought was of that mother who he knew full well would beheartbroken should anything happen to either Sandy or himself.

  Although Bob had apparently collapsed after bursting out from hisstrange prison, he did not long remain there on the earth.

  "I must be up and doing," he cried, as he struggled to gain his feet.

  There was Sandy to think of, and, besides, it was quite too hot soclose to the burning stump. How he longed for a cool drink to moistenhis parched throat!

  "My gun! I could not think of leaving that behind!" he exclaimed,turning back once more, after starting to leave the scene of hissingular adventure.

  Throwing himself down on the ground, he pushed close up to the tree andinserted his arm, groping in the quarter where he remembered his muskethad last stood. At first he failed to touch it.

  "Why, that's odd," he exclaimed, dismayed at the idea of losing hisprecious weapon, for another could not probably have been obtained inits place for long, weary months.

  Perhaps, after all, it happened to be just out of reach of his fingers.Thinking thus, Bob snatched up a piece of wood that had escaped theground conflagration. It was about a foot or so in length, and affordedhim the assistance he needed.

  "There it is, if I can only start it coming this way!" he observed,still imbibing renewed courage from his habit of talking to himself.

  It proved that he could readily manage to move the heavy gun; andalmost immediately his eager fingers were clutching the butt of themusket.

  "Now, after all, I'm little the worse off for it all," declared Bob,as he hastened to scramble further away from the pillar of fire beforerising to his feet; "and the next thing is--Sandy!"

  He seemed to feel a sudden sinking in the region of his heart justat thought of his brother, and yet, if the boy had followed hisinstructions to the letter, surely no ill could have overwhelmed him.

  "That tree was sounder than the one where the bear had his den," hekept muttering to himself as he hurried along over the blackenedground in the direction where he believed he must find the hollow oakgiven over to Sandy; "and after it was all over he could come out mucheasier than I did. But why have I not heard his signal call? Would henot follow after the fire, seeking some sign of me?"

  Bob had just come through a very extraordinary adventure, for some timehis life had actually hung in the balance; but he quickly forgot allabout this in the new anxiety about his brother.

  More than once he had to cast about him to be sure that he was headingthe right way. Somehow, since the fire had burned over the ground,eating up the masses of dead leaves and other inflammable growths,things did not look the same as before.

  "But the wind came down from the north," he kept saying, as he pusheddoggedly on over the smoking ground; "and that is the way I'm goingback now. Only, I seem to be in a new part of the forest, things lookso different. But hold on, Bob, there's that cross formed by two treesthat fell toward each other. I remember that plainly, and it was justafter I left Sandy, too."

  Now he was sure that the hollow tree must be somewhere close by. Heraised his voice, and called the name of his brother.

  "Sandy! Hello! where are you?"

  Through the desolate forest, with its blackened carpet, the sound ofhis voice came back to mock him. Nothing else responded to his hail.

  Louder than before he shouted, but there was no answering call. Bobagain felt that terrible chill in the region of his heart. A brief timebefore, and he had been apparently burning up; now he was shivering.

  "There it is!" he suddenly cried, as he happened to let his wanderinggaze fall upon a tree that seemed to have a gap in its side.

  He hurried forward. Even as he advanced other familiar things greetedhim, so that his last lingering doubt vanis
hed.

  "It's the tree, surely," he muttered, straining his eyes to see within,and almost holding his very breath lest he discover a motionless figurein the cavity.

  But it was empty!

  At least Sandy had not been smothered by the dense smoke; he must haveleft his retreat.

  "Oh! I hope he stayed here until the worst was over!" was the cry thatburst from the boy, as he stood there, staring into the empty _cache_,which he had intended to be a means of life-saving to his brother.

  He turned and looked around. There did not seem to be a living thing insight. Animals and birds had all been driven away by the fire, whichwas doubtless still rushing through the woods far to the south.

  Was it worth while to call out again? Surely if Sandy had been withinhalf a mile of him he must have heard that last shout!

  Puzzled, and sorely distressed, Bob hardly knew what to do. He evenlooked again into the hollow tree, as though in that way he mightreceive an answer to his question as to what had become of his brother.

  And he did.

  For, when he looked down, he saw that there had gathered quite aquantity of dead wood within the cavity. It had not dried out since thelast rain, some time before, which must have driven into the cleft. Andplainly he could see marks there that must have been made by Sandy!

  This gave him an idea, and he wondered why he had not thought of itbefore. Of what use was his forest training if he could not ascertainwhether Sandy had issued from the tree before, or after, the fire?

  Down he dropped on his hands and knees. The very first thing hediscovered was the positive impression made by one of his brother's newmoccasins, given to him by Colonel Boone before the great hunter hadsaid good-bye.

  It was plainly made after the fire had passed, of that Bob feltcertain; and the fact gave him the keenest of pleasure, since itassured him of Sandy's having passed through the siege unharmed.

  But why had he not answered his shouts? Where could he have wanderedto, that he failed to hear a far-reaching hail, such as the stronglungs of his brother had sent sounding through the forest?

  Bob began to follow the footprints. At least Sandy must have intendedto seek him, for he had commenced to chase _after_ the fire.

  "Oh!" gasped the boy, suddenly coming to a stop, and gazing in alarm atsome new marks that met his eyes.

  They were also moccasin tracks! More than that, they seemed to minglewith the smaller ones made by Sandy. Bob bent closer, his heartseeming to leap into his throat as a dreadful fear clutched him.

  One thing he noted that gave him this new chill--every one of the newfootprints _toed in_! He knew what this signified. White men seldomtread that way, but it is the universal custom of Indians to walk afterthe fashion called "pigeon-toe" as nature undoubtedly intended shouldbe done.

  Then Indians had been here,--after the fire, too; and poor Sandy musthave fallen into their hands!