It took longer to get water. One of the barrels fell off and collapsed.

Some of the men were playing out. The horses were wild with excitement and terror. The smoke was growing denser and hotter. Men were coughing and gasping through dry, seared lips.

"You can't hold it, Transley; you can't hold it!" said one of the men.

Transley hit him from the shoulder. He crumpled up and collapsed.

A mile and a half had been made safe, but the smoke was suffocatingly thick and the roar of the oncoming fire rose above the shouts of the fighters. Up galloped the water wagon; made a sharp lurch and turn, and a front wheel collapsed with the shock. The wagon went down at one corner and the barrels were dumped on the ground.

The men looked at Transley. For one moment he surveyed the situation.

"Is there a chain?" he demanded. There was.

"Hitch on to the tire of this broken wheel. Some of you men yank the hub out of it. Others pull gra.s.s. Pull, like h.e.l.l was after you!"

They pulled. In a minute or two Transley had the rim of the wheel flat on the ground, with a team hitched to it and a little pile of dry gra.s.s inside. Then he set fire to the little pile of gra.s.s and started the team slowly along the battle front. As they moved the burning gra.s.s in the rim set fire to the gra.s.s on the prairie underneath; the rim partly rubbed it out again as it came over, and the men were able to keep what remained in check, but as he lengthened his line Transley had to leave more and more men to beat out the fire, and had fewer to pull gra.s.s.

The sacks were too wet to burn; he had to have gra.s.s to feed his moving fire-spreader.

At length he had only a teamster and himself, and his fire was going out. Transley whipped off his shirt, rolled it into a little heap, set fire to it, and ran along beside the rim, firing the little moving circle of gra.s.s inside.

It was the teamster, looking back, who saw Transley fall. He had to drop the lines to run to his a.s.sistance, and the horses, terrified by smoke and fire and the excitement of the fight, immediately bolted. The teamster took Transley in his arms and half carried, half dragged him into the safe area behind the backfires. And a few minutes later the main fire, checked on its front, swept by on the flank and raced on up through the valley.

In riding down to the a.s.sistance of Mrs. Landson Zen found herself suddenly caught in an eddy of smoke. She did not realize at the moment that the wind had turned; she thought she must have ridden into the fire area. To avoid the possibility of being cut off by the fire, and also for better air, she turned her horse to the river. All through the valley were billows of smoke, with here and there a reddish-yellow glare marking the more vicious sections of flame. Vaguely, at times, she thought she caught the shouting of men, but all the heavens seemed full of roaring.

When Zen reached the water the smoke was hanging low on it, and she drove her horse well in. Then she swung down the stream, believing that by making a detour in this way she could pa.s.s the wedge of fire that had interrupted her and get back on to the trail leading to Landson's.

She was coughing with the smoke, but rode on in the confidence that presently it would lift.

It did. A whip of wind raised it like a strong arm throwing off a blanket. She sat up and breathed freely. The hot sun shone through rifts in the canopy of smoke; the blue sky looked down serene and unmoved by this outburst of the elements. Then as Zen brought her eyes back to the water she saw a man on horseback not forty yards ahead. Her first thought was that it must be one of the fire fighters, driven like herself to safety, but a second glance revealed George Drazk. For a moment she had an impulse to wheel and ride out, but even as she smothered that impulse a tinge of color rose in her cheeks that she should for a moment have entertained it. To let George Drazk think she was afraid of him would be utmost humiliation.

She continued straight down the stream, but he had already seen her and was headed her way. In the excitement of what he had just done Drazk was less responsible than usual.

"h.e.l.lo, Zen!" he said. "Mighty decent of you to ride down an' meet me like this. Mighty decent, Zen!"

"I didn't ride down to meet you, Drazk, and you know it. Keep out of the way or I'll use a whip on you!"

"Oh, how haughty! Y.D. all over! Never mind, dear, I like you all the better for that. Who wants a tame horse? An' as for comin' down to meet me, what's the odds, so long as we've met?"

He had turned his horse and blocked the way in front of her. When Zen's horse came within reach Drazk caught him by the bridle.

"Will you let go?" the girl said, speaking as calmly as she could, but in a white pa.s.sion. "Will you let go of that bridle, or shall I make you?"

He looked her full in the face. "Gad, but you're a stunner!" he exclaimed. "I'm glad we met--here."

She brought her whip with a biting cut around the wrist that held her bridle. Drazk winced, but did not let go.

"Jus' for that, young Y.D.," he hissed, "jus' for that we drop all formalities, so to speak."

With a dexterous spurring he brought his horse alongside and threw an arm about Zen before she could beat him off. She used her whip at short range on his face, but had not arm-room in which to land a blow. They were stirrup-deep in water, and as they struggled the horses edged in deeper still. Finding that she could not beat Drazk off Zen clutched her saddle and drove the spurs into her horse. At this unaccustomed treatment he plunged wildly forward, but Drazk's grip on her was too strong to be broken. The manoeuvre had, however, the effect of unhorsing Drazk. He fell in the water, but kept his grip on Zen. With his free hand he still had the reins of his own horse, and he managed also to get hold of hers. Although her horse was plunging and jumping, Drazk's strong grip on his rein kept him from breaking away.

"You fight well, Zen, d.a.m.n you--you fight well," he cried. "So you might. You played with me--you made a fool of me. We'll see who's the fool in the end." With a mighty wrench he tore her from her saddle and she found herself struggling with him in the water.

"If I put you under for a minute I guess you'll be good," he threatened.

"I'll half drown you, Zen, if I have to."

"Go ahead," she challenged. "I'll drown myself, if I have to."

"Not just yet, Zen; not just yet. Afterwards you can do as you like."

In their struggles they had been getting gradually into deeper water. At this moment they found their feet carried free, and the horses began to swim for the sh.o.r.e. Drazk held to both reins with one hand, still clutching his victim with the other. More than once they went under water together and came up half choking.

Zen was not a good swimmer, but she would gladly have broken away and taken chances with the current. Once on land she would be at his mercy.

She was using her head frantically, but could think of no device to foil him. It was not her practice to carry weapons; her whip had already gone down the stream. Presently she saw a long leather thong floating out from the saddle of Drazk's horse. It was no larger than a whiplash; apparently it was a spare lace which Drazk carried, and which had worked loose in the struggle. It was floating close to Drazk.

"Don't let me sink, George!" she cried frantically, in sudden fright.

"Save me! I won't fight any more."

"That's better," he said, drawing her up to him. "I knew you'd come to your senses."

Her hand reached the lash. With a quick motion of the arm, such as is given in throwing a rope, she had looped it once around his neck. Then, pulling the lash violently, she fought herself out of his grip. He clutched at her wildly, but could reach only some stray locks of her brown hair which had broken loose and were floating on the water.

She saw his eyes grow round and big and horrified; saw his mouth open and refuse to close; heard strange little gurgles and chokings. But she did not let go.

"When you insulted me this morning I promised to settle with you; I did not expect to have the chance so soon."

His head had gone under water.... Suddenly she realized that he was drowning. She let go of the thong, clutched her horse's tail, and was pulled quickly ash.o.r.e.

Sitting on the gravel, she tried to think. Drazk had disappeared; his horse had landed somewhat farther down.... Doubtless Drazk had drowned.

Yes, that would be the explanation. Why change it?

Zen turned it over in her mind. Why make any explanations? It would be a good thing to forget. She could not have done otherwise under the circ.u.mstances; no jury would expect her to do otherwise. But why trouble a jury about it?

"He got what was coming to him," she said to herself presently. She admitted no regret. On the contrary, her inborn self-confidence, her a.s.surance that she could take care of herself under any circ.u.mstances, seemed to be strengthened by the experience.

She got up, drew her hair into some kind of shape, and scrambled a little way up the steep bank. Clouds of smoke were rolling up the valley. She did not grasp the significance of the fact at the first glance, but in a moment it impacted home to her. The wind had changed!

Her help now would be needed, not by Mrs. Landson, but probably at their own camp. She sprang on her horse, re-crossed the stream, and set out on a gallop for the camp. On the way she had to ride through one thin line of fire, which she accomplished successfully. Through the smoke she could dimly see Transley's gang fighting the back-fires. She knew that was in good hands, and hastened on to the camp. Zen had had prairie experience enough to know that in hours like this there is almost sure to be something or somebody, in vital need, overlooked.

She galloped into the camp and found only Tompkins there. He had already run a little back-fire to protect the tents and the chuck-wagon.

"How goes it, Tompkins?" she cried, bursting upon him like a courier from battle.

"All set here, Ma'am," he answered. "All set an' safe. But they'll never hold the main fire; it'll go up the valley h.e.l.l-scootin',--beggin' your pardon, Ma'am."

"Anyone live up the valley?"

"There is. There's the Lints--squatters about six miles up--it was from them I got the cream an' fresh eggs you was good enough to notice, Ma'am. An' there's no men folks about; jus' Mrs. Lint an' a young herd of little Lints; least, that's all was there las' night."

"I must go up," said Zen, with instant decision. "I can get there before the fire, and as the Lints are evidently farmers there will be some plowed land, or at least a plow with which to run a furrow so that we can start a back-fire. Direct me."

Tompkins directed her as to the way, and, leaving a word of explanation to be pa.s.sed on to her father, she was off. A half hour's hard riding brought her to Lint's, but she found that this careful settler had made full provision against such a contingency as was now come about. The farm buildings, implements, stables, everything was surrounded, not by a fire-guard, but by a broad plowed field. Mrs. Lint, however, was little less thankful for Zen's interest than she would have been had their little steading been in danger. She pressed Zen to wait and have at least a cup of tea, and the girl, knowing that she could be of little or no service down the valley, allowed herself to be persuaded. In this little harbor of quiet her mind began to arrange the day's events. The tragic happening at the river was as yet too recent to appear real; had it not been for the touch of her wet clothing Zen could have thought that all an unhappy dream of days ago. She reflected that neither Tompkins nor Mrs. Lint had commented upon her appearance. The hot sun had soon dried her outer apparel, and her general dishevelled condition was not remarkable on such a day as this.