“I have had a good deal worse fare than this, my young friend.  I have been in the West, when fire, Indians, and hunger besieged us at the same time.  But we should have a poor chance here if it were not for the wet grass and the everlasting water.  If we can manage to keep clear of the smoke, we shall be all right, but the smoke seems to grow denser.  Where can it come from?”

“Great Heavens! do you hear that?  Shots—­one—­two!  That’s Jack’s signal.  He—­he is near.  He is in danger.  I must go to him.”  Dick cried.  “Listen; more shots.  No, that can’t be the signal.  There, do you hear that?  A volley.  The rebels are after them, or we are near the outposts, and the two armies are skirmishing.”

Yes; the shots now sounded more frequently, but they seemed to be fired not far away.

“It is Jack.  I know it is Jack, and he is in peril.  I must go to him.  I can not stay here.  Surely there is no danger in pushing toward the firing?”

“There is every danger.  In the first place, the smoke will smother us.  Then suppose we reached the spot?  We might be nearer the rebels than our friends.  They know where we are.  If they are not taken, they will come back for us.  If they are taken, we must do our best to get to our lines and send out a scouting party.  Be guided by me, youngster.  I am an older hand in business of this sort than you are.”

The boy stood irresolute.  Both listened intently.  The firing had stopped.  A great sough of rising storm came from the northwest, carrying a hot, blinding mass of smoke and flame into the little retreat.  They flung themselves on the damp ferns to keep their breath.  Still the breeze rose, until it became a wind—­a spasm of hurricane.  It was madness to linger, for the flames now licked the ground, driven down anew by the blast.  Then Jones spoke decisively:  “Strap a pine torch to your body.  I will do the same.  Take all you can carry and follow in my wake.”  Jones, as he spoke, seized a torch, extinguished it, and handed it to Dick.  Equipped as he had directed, they set out, half crawling, half swimming, to avoid the volumes of smoke hovering in the thick, cactus-like leaves of the wild laurel.  Presently they emerged, after toil and misery, that excitement alone enabled the boy to support, into what seemed a cleared space.  But as soon as their eyes could distinguish clearly, they found themselves on the edge of a wide pond.  The fire was now behind them.  They could stand erect and breathe the pure, cool air.

“Ah, now we are in luck!” Jones whispered.  “We will walk to the right, on the edge of this lake, and keep it between us and the fire.  We have got out of that purgatory; now if we could only signal our friends.”

“Hist!” whispered Dick, “I hear some one moving behind us.”

They crouched down in the thick reeds and waited.  The sky above was darkly overcast; an occasional burst of lightning revealed the dimensions of the pond, and they could see high ground on the eastern shore, covered by enormous pines.