Line up thar ri' down t' the water's edge and come
up through here. You fellers from Pennsylvany 'n' you others thar, git
the axes 'n' come 'long o' me. Don't git rattled, now."
Like clockwork they formed a line from the lake up around the camp,
completely encircling it. The fire crept nearer every second, stifling
them with its pungent smoke. Other scouts, some with long axes, others
with belt axes, followed Jeb Rushmore, chopping down the small trees
which he indicated along the path made by this human line. In less than
a minute fifty or more scouts were working desperately felling trees
along the path. Fortunately, the trees were small, and fortunately, too,
the scouts knew how to fell them so that they fell in each case away
from the path, leaving an open way behind the camp.
Along this open way the line stood, and thus the full buckets passing
from hand to hand with almost the precision of machinery, were emptied
along this open area, soaking it.
"The rest o' you b'ys," called Jeb, "climb up on the cabins--one on each
cabin, and three or four uv ye on the pavilion. Some o' ye stay below to
pass the buckets up. Keep the roofs wet--that's whar the sparks'll
light. Hey, Tom!"
As the hurried work went on one of Garry's troop grasped Jeb by the arm.
"How about our cabin?" said he, fearfully. "There are two fellows up
there."
Jeb paused a moment, but shook his head. "They'll hev ter risk jumpin'
int' th' cut," said he. "No mortal man c'u'd git to 'em through them
woods naow.
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