"Well, I guess we'd best go and do what he brought us for, anyway."
Beyond the plough-land and the burnt timber such safety as there was left Dick, and he charged into the columned distances where the fire threaded about to loop him in. Every fibre of him was quick with the knowledge that he must save Slicker. Jennifer loved Slicker, and it was through Dick that he was here, and that thought stung sharper than the little sparks upon his hands. The fate of Grange did not trouble him particularly. He had not very much reverence for human life, and Grange would have to die some day, anyhow. He would have gone after Grange, had the man been alone, because such matters were scheduled in his mind as the natural thing. But a little bit of Grange, such as his charred back-teeth or his knife, would have satisfied Dick very nearly. Slicker was different. He had to bring Slicker out unharmed or to stay in himself; but he was not sure if the choice would be given him.
And yet there was a half-wild delight to him in the danger; in the thunder of the nearing army which shook the forest; in the belching smoke and the rockets of flame that shot the sky, and in the shrieking and the whistling and the almost human screams. Birds flew by, low and darting. One brushed his cheek, and fell dead in his hand. It smelt of burnt flesh and feathers. All the undergrowth was full of the rush and the hurry and the squealing of little animals, and a skunk, singed naked as a young rabbit, lay in the trail. Far-off a vixen was yelping in short, agonised barks. Behind him something was whining. Ahead something cried. He did not know that both were the flames running in the saskatoons and cranberries.
So far he had kept very much to the trail by which he had come. But Grange and Slicker would not be here. Somewhere they would be racing before the fire, unless they were in the muskeg. Dick's whole heart clung to the hope that they were in the muskeg, and he rode on, weaving his way through the smoke-blinded trails, more by instinct than sight.
Down the crossed trails tall trees that stood apart were like tortured Indians with their scalp-locks streaming.
