Bob and Elliott uttered a simultaneous cry of dismay.  The victory had seemed fairly in their grasp.  Now all chance of it was snatched away.

“Poor guess,” said Charley Morton.  The men, without other comment, shouldered their implements and set off on a dog-trot after their leader.  The ranger merely fell back to the next natural barrier.

“Now, let’s see if we can’t hold her, boys,” said he.

Twice again that day were these scenes reenacted.  The same result obtained.  Each time it seemed to Bob that he could do no more.  His hand felt as big as a pillow, and his whole arm and shoulder ached.  Besides this he was tired out.  Amy had been cut off from them by the fire.  In two days they had had but an hour’s sleep.  Water had long since given out on them.  The sun beat hot and merciless, assisting its kinsman, the fire.  Bob would, if left to himself, have given up the contest long since.  It seemed ridiculous that this little handful of men should hope to arrest anything so mighty, so proud, so magnificent as this great conflagration.  As well expect a colony of ants to stop a break in the levee.  But Morton continued to fall back as though each defeat were a matter of course.  He seemed unwearied, though beneath the smoke-black his eyes were hollow.  Mrs. Morton did her part with the rest, strong as a man for all her feminine attraction, for all the soft lines of her figure.

“I’ll drop back far enough this time,” Charley muttered to her, as they were thrown together in their last retreat.  “Can’t seem to get far enough back!”

“There’s too few of us to handle such a big fire,” his wife replied.  “You can’t do it with six men.”

“Seven,” amended Charley.  “You’re as good as any of us.  Don’t you worry, Lou.  Even if we don’t stop her—­and I think we will—­we’re checking the run of her until we get help.  We’re doing well.  There’s only two old fire-fighters in the lot—­you and me.  All the rest is green hands.  We’re doing almighty well.”

Overhearing this Bob plucked up heart.  These desperate stands were not then so wasted as he had thought them.  At least the fire was checked at each defence—­it was not permitted to run wild over the country.

“We ought to get help before long,” he said.

“To-morrow, I figure,” replied Charley Morton.  “The boys are scattered wide, finishing odds and ends before coming in for the Fourth.  It’ll be about impossible to get hold of any of ’em except by accident.  But they’ll all come in for the Fourth.”

The next defence was successfully completed before the fire reached it.  Bob felt a sudden rush of most extraordinary and vivifying emotion.  A moment ago he had been ready to drop in his tracks, indifferent whether the fire burned him as he lay.  Now he felt ready to go on forever.  Bert Elliott found energy enough to throw his hat into the air, while Jack shook his fist at the advancing fire.