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Fitzhugh, Percy Keese, 1876-1950

"Roy Blakely, Pathfinder"

Because even if we could get through the brush
fast enough, I saw we couldn't get out of range of it. Kind of, the thought
came to me that it was like soldiers who had just scrambled out of the
trenches. That was just how suddenly we saw it. I remember I heard Harry
say something about wind and fire being allies, but we didn't stop to talk,
only pushed up through the brush as fast as we could, but all the while it
kept gaining on us.
Pretty soon I said, all out of breath, "We can't keep this up; it's
gaining; I can even feel the heat."
"We can't flank it, that's sure," Harry said; "hustle for all you're worth;
that's all I can say."
Gee, I'll never forget that night. We just pushed on up through the brush,
stumbling and falling and lifting each other and trying to run. Our clothes
were all torn and we were panting like a lot of dogs.
"Watch and see that no fellow is left behind," Harry panted.
Every minute two or three of us were just dragging some fellow up out of
the brush. I guess it was a case of more haste, less speed; it's pretty
hard running through brush.
Harry just panted out, "Boys, we're in a pretty tight place; don't get
rattled.


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