"Devil"s Hill, if the fire ain"t ahead of us."
"And if it is?" Curiously enough the Padre, even, seemed to seek guidance from Buck.
"It sure will be if we waste time--talkin"."
Caesar leapt at his bit in response to the sharp stroke of the spur.
Now Buck had no thought for anything but the swift traveling fire on his left. It was the pace of his horse against the pace at which the gale was driving this furnace. It was the great heart of his horse against endurance. Would it stand the test with its double burden? If they could reach that bald, black hill, there was safety and rest. If not--but they must reach it. They must reach it if it was the last service he ever claimed from his faithful servant. For once in his life the mystery of the hill afforded Buck hope and comfort. For once it was a goal to be yearned for, and he could think of no greater delight than to rest upon its black summit far from the reach of the hungry flames, that now, like an invading army, were seeking by every means to envelop him.
Could they make it?
A hundred thoughts and sensations were pa.s.sing through the man"s body and mind. He was sub-consciously estimating Caesar"s power by the gait at which he was traveling. He was guessing at the rate of the racing fire. He was calculating the direction of the wind to an absurd fraction. He was observing without interest the racing of a strangely a.s.sorted commingling of forest creatures down the trail, seeking safety in flight from the speeding fire. He cared nothing for them. He had no feelings of pity for anything or any one but Joan. Every hope in his heart, every atom of power in his body, every thought was for her well-being and ultimate safety. Oh, for the rain; oh, for such a rain as he had seen that time before.
But the storming heavens were dry-eyed and merciless. That freakish phenomenon of a raging thunder-storm without the usual deluge of rain was abroad with all its deadly danger. It was extraordinary. It was so extraordinary that Buck was utterly at a loss. Why, why? And his impatient questioning remained without answer. There had been every indication of rain and yet none had come----What was that?
Caesar suddenly seemed to sway drunkenly. He shook his head in the manner of a horse irritated, and alarm set his ears flat back in his head, and he stretched his neck, and, of his own accord, increased his pace. Buck saw nothing to cause this sudden disturbance other than that which had been with them all the time, and yet his horse"s alarm was very evident.
A moment later occurred something still more unusual. Caesar stumbled.
He did not fall. It was a mere false step, and, as he recovered, Buck felt the poor beast trembling under him. Was it the end of his endurance? No. The horse was traveling even faster than before, and he found it necessary to check the faithful creature, an attention that quickly aroused its opposition.
Buck"s puzzled eyes lifted from his horse to the rapidly nearing fire.
It must be that Caesar must have realized its proximity, and, in his effort to outstrip it, had brought about his own floundering. So he no longer checked the willing creature, and the race went on at the very limit of the horse"s pace. Then, in a moment, again came that absurd reeling and uncertainty. And Buck"s added puzzlement found expression in words, while his eyes watched closely for some definite cause.
"Ther"s suthin" amiss with Caesar," he said, with an unconcern of manner which his words belied.
"What do you mean?" Joan"s eyes lifted to his in sudden alarm. Then she added, "I seemed to notice something."
"Seems like he"s--drunk." Buck laughed.
"Perhaps--the earth"s shaking. I shouldn"t wonder, with this--this storm."
"Shaking?"
Buck echoed her word, but his mind had suddenly seized upon it with a different thought from hers. If the earth were shaking, it would not be with the storm above. His eyes peered ahead. Devil"s Hill lay less than a mile away, and that was where he reckoned the fire would strike the trail. Devil"s Hill. A sudden uncomfortable repulsion at the thought of its barren dome took hold of him. For some subtle reason it no longer became the haven to be yearned for that it had been. Rather was it a resting-place to be sought only in extremity--if the earth were shaking.
His attention now became divided between the fire and Caesar. The horse was evidently laboring. He was moving without his accustomed freedom of gait, and yet he did not seem to be tiring.
Half the distance to the foot of the hill had been covered. The fire was nearing rapidly, so near indeed was it that the air was alive with a perfect hail of glowing sparks, swept ahead of it by the terrific wind. The scorching air was becoming unendurable, and the mental strain made the trail seem endless, and their efforts almost hopeless.
Buck looked down at the girl"s patient face.
"It"s hot--hot as h.e.l.l," he said with another meaningless laugh.
The girl read through his words and the laugh--read through them to the thought behind them, and promptly protested.
"Don"t worry for me. I can stand--anything now."
The added squeeze of her arm upon his shoulders set Buck"s teeth gritting.
Suddenly he reined Caesar in.
"I must know "bout that--shakin"," he said.
For a second the horse stood with heaving body. It was only a moment, but in that moment he spread out his feet as though to save himself from falling. Then in answer to the spur he sped on.
"It"s the earth, sure," cried Buck. And had there been another escape he would have turned from the barren hill now rising amidst the banking smoke-clouds ahead of him.
"Earthquake!" said the girl.
"Yes."
Nothing more was said. The air scorched their flesh, and Joan was fearful lest the falling sparks should fire her clothing. With every pa.s.sing moment Caesar was nearing their forbidding goal. The fire was so adjacent that the roar and crackle of it shrieked in their ears, and through the trees shone the hideous gleam of flame. It was neck and neck, and their hope lay beneath them. Buck raked the creature"s flanks again with his spurs, and the gallant beast responded. On, on they sped at a gait that Buck knew well could not last for long. But with every stride the hill was coming nearer, and it almost seemed as if Caesar understood their necessity, and his own. Once Joan looked back. That st.u.r.dy horse of the Padre was doggedly pursuing. Step for step he hugged his stable companion"s trail, but he was far, far behind.
"The Padre," cried Joan. "They are a long way back."
"G.o.d help him!" cried Buck, through clenched teeth. "I can"t. To wait fer him sure means riskin" you."
"But----" Joan broke off and turned her face up to the canopy of smoke driving across them. "Rain!" she cried, with a wild thrill of hope.
"Rain--and in a deluge."
In a moment the very heavens seemed to be emptying their reservoirs.
It came, not in drops, but in streams that smote the earth, the fire, themselves with an almost crushing force. In less than half a minute they were drenched to the skin, and the water was pouring in streams from their extremities.
"We"ve won out," cried Buck, with a great laugh.
"Thank G.o.d," cried Joan, as she turned her scorched face up to receive the grateful water.
Buck eased the laboring Caesar.
"That fire won"t travel now, an"--ther"s the hill," the man nodded.
They had steadied to a rapid gallop. The hill, as Buck indicated, was just ahead. Joan"s anxious eyes looked for the beginning of the slope.
Yes, it was there. Less than two hundred yards ahead.
The air filled with steam as the angry fire strove to battle with its arch-enemy. But the rain was as merciless in its onslaught as had been the storm, and the fire itself. The latter had been given full scope to work its mischief, and now it was being called to its account.
Heavier and heavier the deluge fell, and the miracle of its irresistible power was in the rapid fading of the ruddy glow in the smoke-laden atmosphere. The fire was beaten from the outset and its retreat before the opposing element was like a panic flight.
In five minutes Caesar was clawing his way up over the boulder-strewn slopes of the hill, and Joan knew that, for the time at least, they were safe. She knew, too, if the rain held for a couple of hours, the blazing woods would be left a cold waste of charred wreckage.
But the rain did not hold. It lasted something less than a quarter of an hour. It was like a merciful act of Providence that came at the one moment when it could serve the fugitives. The chances had been all against them. Buck had known it. The fire must have met them at the foot of the hill and so barred their ultimate escape. The Padre behind had been inevitably doomed.
CHAPTER x.x.xVI
THE CATACLYSM