“It doesn’t do to try to stop a fire anywhere and everywhere,” said she.  “A good man knows his country, and he takes advantage of it.  This fire line probably runs along the line of natural defence.”

They followed it down the mountain for a long distance through the eddying smoke.  The flames to their right shot up and died and crept.  The shadows to their left—­their own among the number—­leaped and fell.  After a while, down through the mists, they made out a small figure, very busy at something.  When they approached, they found this to be Charley Morton.  The fire had leaped the cleared path and was greedily eating in all directions through the short, pitchy growth of tarweed.  It was as yet only a tiny leak, but once let it get started, the whole forest beyond the fire line would be ablaze.  The ranger had started to cut around this a half-circle connected at both ends with the main fire line.  With short, quick jabs of his hoe, he was tearing away at the tough tarweed.

“Hullo!” said he without looking up.  “You’ll find camp on the bald ridge north the fire line.  There’s a little feed there.”

Having completed his defence, he straightened his back to look at them.  His face was grimed a dingy black through which rivulets of sweat had made streaks.

“Had it pretty hot all afternoon,” he proffered.  “Got the fire line done, though.  How’re those canteens—­full?  I’ll trade you my empty one.”  He took a long draught.  “That tastes good.  Went dry about three o’clock, and haven’t had a drop since.”

They left him there, leaning on the handle of his hoe.  Jack Pollock seemed to know where the place described as the camp-site was located, for after various detours and false starts, he led them over the brow of a knoll to a tiny flat among the pine needles where they were greeted by whinnies from unseen animals.  It was here very dark.  Jack scraped together and lit some of the pine needles.  By the flickering light they saw the four saddles dumped down in a heap.

“There’s a side hill over yander with a few bunches of grass and some of these blue lupins,” said Jack.  “It ain’t much in the way of hoss-feed, but it’ll have to do.”

He gathered fuel and soon had enough of a fire to furnish light.

“It certainly does seem plumb foolish to be lightin’ more fires!” he remarked.

In the meantime Amy had unsaddled her own horse and was busy unpacking one of the pack animals.  Bob followed her example.

“There,” she said; “now here are the canteens, all full; and here’s six lunches already tied together that I put up before we started.  You can get them to the other boys.  Take your tools and run along.  I’ll straighten up, and be ready for you when you can come back.”

“What if the fire gets over to you?” asked Bob.

“I’ll turn the horses loose and ride away,” she said gaily.

“It won’t get clost to there,” put in Jack.  “This little ridge is rock all round it.  That’s why they put the camp here.”