WHEN FORESTS ARE ABLAZE It seemed to Jack that he had been running for an hour, though it could not have been more than a few minutes at most.

Where the trail swung out and around a steep, rocky place, he left it and plunged heedlessly straight down the hill.

The hot breath of the fire swept up in gusts, bearing charred flakes that had been leaves.

The smoke billowed up to him, then drove back in the tricky air-currents that played impishly around the fire.

When he could look down to the knoll where the hydrometer stood, he saw that it was not yet afire, but that the flames were working that way faster even than he had feared.
Between gasps he shouted her name as Hank Brown had repeated it to him.