Then they passed by,
and when they heard them following the wagon no longer rattled glibly
along, but chuckled heavily under its load.
The dull, red glow brightened to orange. Then, breasting at last a long
hill, they came to the top, and Beatrice caught her breath at what lay
below.
A jagged line of leaping flame cut clean through the dark of the
coulee. The smoke piled rosily above and before, and the sullen roar of
it clutched the senses--challenging, sinister. Creeping stealthily,
relentlessly, here a thin gash of yellow hugging close to the earth,
there a bold, bright wall of fire, it swept the coulee from rim to rim.
"The wind is carrying it from us," Sir Redmond was saying in her ear.
"Are you afraid to stop here alone? I ought to go down and lend a hand."
Beatrice drew a long gasp. "Oh, no, I'm not afraid. Go; there is Dick,
down there."
"You're sure you won't mind?" He hesitated, dreading to leave her.
"No, no! Go on--they need you."
Sir Redmond turned and rode down the ridge toward the flames. His
straight figure was silhouetted sharply against the glow.
Beatrice slipped off her horse and sat down upon a rock, dead to
everything but the fiendish beauty of the scene spread out below her.
Millions of sparks danced in and out among the smoke wreaths which
curled upward--now black, now red, now a dainty rose.
Pages:
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109