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Fitzhugh, Percy Keese, 1876-1950

"Roy Blakely, Pathfinder"


Then we lighted the brush along the edge of the cleared space that was
nearest to the fire. If the wind had been blowing that way, the fire would
have moved right out to meet the other one. But it had to buck the wind and
that was bad. Anyway, the clearing we had made prevented it from coming our
way, but the sparks kept blowing across the clearing, and we knew that all
we had done was to check the fire long enough to get another good head
start away from it.
Believe _me_, we didn't wait long.
Harry was panting so hard he could only just talk. "We've got to get down
the other side of the mountain," he said, "I figure it'll be about ten
minutes or so before the land this side of the clearing gets started. The
sparks'll start it. The clearing isn't wide enough and the wind is wrong.
Drop everything and follow me--quick."
Then Will Dawson spoke up. He never talked very much, but he was a good
scout just the same. He was breathing so hard he just gulped. "Do either
of you girls or fellows know where the man who lived here got his water?
There must be water here somewheres or they wouldn't have built the house
here.


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