Dick, who had been thinking, suddenly wheeled, making a break
for the supplies.
"Get a box of matches, each one of you!" he shouted. "Then sprint
with me for that patch of sun-baked grass just north of us."
"What's the idea?" Dave asked, but Dick was already running fast.
"Get your matches and come on!" Dick called back over his shoulder.
As speedily as could be done the others followed suit. Dick reached
the sun-burned strip of grass, whose nearer edge was some two
hundred yards north of camp.
"Hey! He's starting a forest fire!" gasped Dan Dalzell, as he
caught sight of young Prescott bending over the dried, yellowish
grass.
"Scatter, all along the strip!" shouted Prescott, rising as soon
as he had ignited a clump of grass. "Get this whole strip of
burned grass blazing. It's the only chance to save the camp---or
ourselves!"
Dalzell shivered. Nor could Dan understand how such a course
would serve to save their camp. But he saw the others following
their leader's orders.
"Get over the ground, Dan!" bellowed Dick, as he sprinted to another
point. "Start a lot of blazes!"
So Danny Grin fell in line with the movements of the others, though
he felt not a little doubt as to the wisdom of the course.
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