You've 'most smashed my ankle, besides sticking a grub-hoe into me, and Saunders must work out a big stone just when I was under it.

We've been living most of two months on his rancid pork and grindstone bread, and now you make a circus about a little smoke!" He broke off in another fit of spluttering, and the storekeeper's voice rose out of the vapor which seemed to be rapidly thickening.
"The wind's not dropped.

It's shifted, and the fire's working back," he said.
In another moment Weston stood gasping in the doorway.

A little chilly breeze, such as often draws down from the ranges in early morning, met him in the face, and the air was thick with drifting smoke.

Hoarse shouts rose out of it and a patter of running feet, and it became evident that most of the men were departing hastily for the range or the remoter forest.