The coat belt strained against its buttons over papa's prosperous paunch, and he wheezed when he talked.
And down there on the manzanita slope, little flashes of light kept calling, calling, and Jack dared not answer.

One, two--one, two, three--could anything in the world be more maddening?
Then all at once a puff of smoke came ballooning up through the trees, down beyond the girl and well to the right of the balsam thicket.

Jack whirled and dove into the station, his angry eyes flashing at the tourists.
"There's a forest fire started, down the mountain," he told them harshly.

"You better beat it for Keddie while you can get there!" He slammed the door in their startled faces and laid the pointer on its pivot and swung it toward the smoke.
The smoke was curling up already in an ugly yellowish brown cloud, spreading in long leaps before the wind.

Jack's hand shook when he reached for the telephone to report the fire.