It seemed to hang in heavy clouds, and the forest shut out any fresh air that might be moving high up.
Despite the great heat the boys had built the fire as high as usual, because they knew that the search for them would never cease so long as there was a hope of success, and they thought that the signal should not be lacking.

But now they moved away from it and into the shadow of the woods.
"If only the wind would blow!" said Henry.
"And I'd be willing to stand a rain like the one in which we got lost," said Paul.
But neither rain nor wind came, and after a while they fell asleep.
Henry was awakened at an unknown hour of the night by a roaring in his ears, and at first he believed that Paul was about to have his storm.
Then he was dazzled by a great rush of light in his eyes, and he sprang to his feet in sudden alarm.
"Up, Paul!" he cried, grasping his comrade by the shoulder.

"The woods are on fire!" Paul was on his feet in an instant, and the two were just in time.
Sparks flew in their faces and the flames twisting into pyramids and columns leaped from tree to tree with a sound like thunder as they came.
Boughs, burnt through, fell to the ground with a crash.

The sparks rose in millions.
The boys had slept in their clothes or rather what was left of them, and, grasping each other's hands, they ran at full speed toward the creek, with the great fire roaring and rushing after them.

Henry looked back once but the sight terrified him and the sparks scorched his face.
He knew that the conflagration had been set by their own bonfire, fanned by a rising wind as they slept, but it was no time to lament.