Other flames ran in and out among the withered white sheaths that had dropped off, and mounted up the smooth stems, and then there came a wandering puff of wind, which rustled over the bending tops and fanned the little serpent-tongues of fire into one devouring flame.
He had no wish to be roasted.

Once more using his knife to cut down a sheaf of stems, he made a flail of these, and beat out the fire to windward.

And as he worked on the one side of the little clearing the fire grew on the other side, and then raced along, leaving behind in the blackened area many separate fires, where masses of reeds had been beaten down.

And the smoke went up in a growing cloud that blotted out the sky--went up and fortunately rolled away towards the great river under the sufficient strength of the wind; otherwise he would have been suffocated.

The cracking of the reeds was like rifle-fire breaking through the roar of the flames, and now and again the crashing of animals on the stampede could be heard.