“It ain’t no job for old folks,” said the other bitterly.  “If it had ha’ gone a hundred feet further that way, ‘twould ha’ been in where Ed Hewitt’s been lumberin’, and if it had got into them dry tops and brush—­well, I guess ‘twould ha’ gone from here to Chitford village before it stopped.  And ‘twouldn’t ha’ stopped there, neither!”

The old man said reflectively:  “’Twas the first load of men did the business.  ’Twas nip and tuck down to the last foot if we could stop it on that side.  I tell you, ten minutes of that kind o’ work takes about ten years off’n a man’s life.  We’d just about gi’n up when we saw ’em coming.  I bet I won’t be no gladder to see the pearly gates than I was to see them men with hoes.”

Molly turned a glowing, quivering face of pride on Sylvia, and then looked past her shoulder with a startled expression into the eyes of one of the fire-fighters, a tall, lean, stooping man, blackened and briar-torn like the rest.  “Why, Cousin Austin!” she cried with vehement surprise, “what in the world—­” In spite of his grime, she gave him a hearty, astonished, affectionate kiss.

“I was just wondering,” said the man, smiling indulgently down on her, “how soon you’d recognize me, you little scatter-brain.”

“I thought you were going to stick in Colorado all summer,” said Molly.

“Well, I heard they were short of help at Austin Farm and I came on to help get in the hay,” said the man.  Both he and Molly seemed to consider this a humorous speech.  Then, remembering Sylvia, Molly went through a casual introduction.  “This is my cousin—­Austin Page—­my favorite cousin!  He’s really awfully nice, though so plain to look at.”  She went on, still astonished, “But how’d you get here?”

“Why, how does anybody in Vermont get to a forest fire?” he answered.  “We were out in the hayfield, saw the smoke, left the horses, grabbed what tools we could find, and beat it through the woods.  That’s the technique of the game up here.”

“I didn’t know your farm ran anywhere near here,” said Molly.

“It isn’t so terribly near.  We came across lots tolerable fast.  But there’s a little field, back up on the edge of the woods that isn’t so far.  Grandfather used to raise potatoes there.  I’ve got it into hay now,” he explained.

As they talked, the fire beyond them gave definite signs of yielding.  It had evidently been stopped on the far side and now advanced nowhere, showed no longer a malign yellow crest, but only rolling sullenly heavenward a diminishing cloud of smoke.  The fire-fighters began to straggle back across the burned tract towards the road, their eyeballs gleaming white in their dark faces.

“Oh, they mustn’t walk!  I’ll take them back—­the darlings!” said Molly, starting for her car.  She was quite her usual brisk, free-and-easy self now.  “Cracky!  I hope I’ve got gas enough.  I’ve certainly been going some!”