The horse was guided not down but across the wind.
Twice and three times, silent, he flung her off and was down, kindling his little back fires--the only defense against a wildfire.

He breathed thickly, making sounds of rage.
"Will they never start ?" he broke out at last.

"The fools--the fools!" But by now it was too late.

A sudden accession in the force of the wind increased the speed of the fire.

The little line near Molly's wagon spared it, but caught strength.