Читать книгу Camping in the Winter Woods: Adventures of Two Boys in the Maine Woods онлайн

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Thicker and more dense grew the smoke-clouds in the woods, and the air became oppressive and suffocating. Tears ran down the boys’ cheeks, and they coughed violently as the pungent smoke filled their lungs.

“Come on, you’ll get used to it soon,” called Ben, encouragingly.

They got a glimpse of the cabin through the smoke, and cried out with delight. In the doorway stood Bill, the trapper, and down the trail came old Moze. They were compelled to laugh when every few feet the hound was obliged to stop and sneeze.

“I’m glad you’re here,” said Ben, greeting the trapper.

“Well, you see, there’s a nasty fire coming this way, and I knew you’d be glad to have help to save the shack before morning; so I hustled over.”

“If the wind would only shift around, we’d be all right,” said Ben, gloomily.

“There’s not much wind to shift,” the trapper replied, shaking his head.

The boys sat listening while the two experienced woodsmen consulted as to the best way of keeping the fire off. They finally agreed that the safest course would be to back-fire the woods on all four sides of the cabin. It would be dangerous, for the dry forest, when once kindled, would burn like tinder. The fighters would have to work hard to prevent their fire from turning back and consuming the cabin. To make matters worse, the wind was momentarily strengthening, so that on two sides at least they would be obliged to drive their back-fire into the face of it. But nothing was to be gained by delay, and they began the fight at once.