Depressed and silent, the two lads continued along the brook.  The mountains on either side of them and the entire bottom between lay black and desolate.  But far up the run they could now see green foliage again, where the fire had been stopped.

“Let’s go on to those pines before we eat our breakfast,” said Charley.  “It would make me sick to eat here in these ruins.”

“That’s exactly the way I feel, too,” replied Lew.  “It is the most awful thing I ever saw.  Let’s get out of it.”

As rapidly as they could, they forced their way up-stream.  The valley became narrower as they advanced.  It was shaped like a huge wish-bone; and they were nearing the small end, where the mountains came together and formed a high knob.  As the valley narrowed, the grade became much steeper, and their progress was correspondingly slower.

The pines they were heading for stood almost at the top of the knob at the crotch of the wish-bone.  They were, therefore, at a considerable elevation.  From the edge of these pines one would have to travel only a short distance to reach the very summit of the knob.  After a hard walk the boys reached the end of the burned tract.  They penetrated into the living forest far enough to shut out the sight of the dead forest they had just traversed.  Then they threw down their packs and hastily set about cooking their breakfast.

“Gee!” cried Lew.  “I never was so glad to get away from anything in my life.  I hope I shall never again see a sight like that.  It fairly makes a fellow sick.”

In their haste to start cooking, they were not as careful as they might have been in building their fire, and they made considerable smoke.  Before they were half done eating, a man appeared farther up the run, advancing through the pines at great speed.  He seemed to be in a big hurry until he caught sight of the two boys as they sat on the dry pine-needles.  After that he came forward at an ordinary gait.

“Good-morning, boys,” he said pleasantly, as he drew near.  Then, catching sight of their rods, he added, “If you came to get fish, you struck a mighty poor place.”

“It used to be the best place for trout I ever saw,” replied Lew.  “This brook used to be full of ’em—­big ones, too.  But the season has been so dry, the brook has almost disappeared.”

“You mean that the fires that have swept this valley have burned it up,” replied the stranger.

“It’s too awful a thing to joke about,” replied Lew.

“A joke!” exclaimed the stranger, frowning.

“It’s the literal truth—­and a most terrible truth, at that.”

“I don’t understand,” said Lew, slowly.  “How can fire burn water?  I supposed the lack of snow last winter and of rain this spring had made the brook shrink.”

“Not for a minute, young man, not for a minute.  If fires hadn’t swept this valley the past two or three years, there would have been plenty of water in the run, rain or no rain.”