blistered wrists, his smarting eyes, his stinging throat and lungs. He knew vaguely that the woman was staring at him as she tugged frantically at the heavy scow—sobbing as she tugged. The little girl cried upon the gravel, and the little boy pushed and pulled, exerting his tiny strength to the utmost in a vain effort to help his mother.
Connie reached the boat and grasped the gun-wale. Instantly the woman gripped his shoulder.
"Your blouse is on fire!" she screamed, and pointed to the water. "Jump in!" And Connie did jump in, and when he came up out of the cold water he felt wonderfully revived.
"Where is he—my husband?" cried the woman, when the boy was again at her side.
"He's all right. He crossed the divide. He was a good three hours ahead of me, and I had almost reached the timber-line."
It was but the work of a few moments, with the aid of a pole lever, to launch the boat. They lifted the children in and pushed off—and just in time! For as the boat swung out into the current, Connie pointed toward the mouth of the creek, and as the woman looked she shuddered. The full force of the fire was roaring down the valley, and from its
