So quickly did the flames advance that Hector and Louis
had only time to push off the canoe before the heights along the shore were
wrapped in smoke and fire. Many a giant oak and noble pine fell crashing to
the earth, sending up showers of red sparks, as its burning trunk shivered
in its fall. Glad to escape from the suffocating vapour, the boys quickly
paddled out to the island, enjoying the cool, fresh air of the lake.
Reposing on the grass beneath the trees, they passed the day, sheltered
from the noonday sun, and watched the progress of the fires upon the shore.
At night the girls slept securely under the canoe, which they raised on one
side by means of forked sticks stuck in the ground.
It was a grand sight to see the burning plains at night, reflected on the
water. A thousand naming torches flickered upon its still surface, to which
the glare of a gas-lighted city would have been dim and dull by contrast.
Louis and Hector would speculate on the probable chances of the shanty
escaping from the fire, and of the fence remaining untouched.
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