Phil awakes.—A morning Bath and a morning Repast.—A pleasant Discovery.—Once more upon the Move.—The rough, impenetrable Woods.—The River.—A new Mode of Travel.—The friendly Log.—I’m afloat, I’m afloat.—Arrested.—The secret Place of Fire.
ALL that night Phil slept most soundly in the little rocky chamber where he had made his bed; and early on the following morning he waked and crawled forth. It had been much cooler inside that little cavern than outside, and he was very much refreshed; but on emerging into the outer world, he was at once sensible that the heat of the atmosphere was most oppressive. The smoke, too, was thicker now than ever. Overhead it was darker, and descended nearer to the ground; while the smell of the air was more irritating to the throat and nostrils. Everything showed him, most plainly, either that the fires were increasing, or were steadily drawing nearer to where he was. In either case, the prospect was sufficiently unpleasant to make him look forward with uneasiness to his future; for as he could see nothing at any distance ahead, and as he was still in ignorance of the direction which he ought to take, he was quite incapable of forming any definite plan of escape, and could only adhere to his former plan of following the course of the river.

On finding out the heat of the atmosphere, his first impulse was to prepare himself for the toils of the day by a bath, which he proceeded at once to take. The water was still cool; and the rushing torrent, as it passed over his head and dashed against his limbs, gave him a delicious sense of enjoyment. Then followed his breakfast. The fish which he had saved for the night before were used for this purpose. He kindled a fire close by his rock, and cooked them upon the coals with his usual success. While eating his fish, he noticed at a little distance some shrubbery that seemed strangely familiar, and suggested the idea of a luxurious addition to his repast. He at once went towards them, and found that his surmise was correct. They were blackberry bushes, and were filled with berries, in such numbers that in a very short time he had picked as much as a quart. These he caught in some strips of bark folded so as to make a dish, and with this addition to his provisions he returned to his former station, and finished his breakfast with uncommon relish and enjoyment.

After finishing his repast he waited for some time, trying to think upon what might be his best course of action through the day. The more he tried, however, the more unable he found himself to devise anything better than that which he had been doing; and so at length, finding any further thought useless, he determined to set out on his daily tramp, leaving his course to be determined by the events of the day.

His course was at first precisely like what it had been on the previous day. Dark pine trees arose all about him, standing at intervals sufficiently wide to allow of easy progress, their innumerable shafts rising on every side as far as the eye could reach. The shadow of the forest beneath caught a peculiar leaden tinge from the smoke that now surrounded everything, and in some places was so dark that it seemed as though the fire might be smouldering there. There was no underbrush of any consequence, so that Phil could go on whatever course he pleased; and as the ground was firm and hard, his progress was made without undue effort. Thus he was able to keep the river in sight, and follow its course for a long distance.

As he went on the brook grew gradually larger, and at length ran into a stream very much larger than itself, large enough, in fact, to deserve the name of river. This Phil saw with delight; for he saw in this the hope of encountering the haunts of men. As he looked down the course of this river, which here afforded a much wider opening in the forest than he had yet seen, he was struck by the density of the smoke clouds, and the peculiar character of the atmosphere. The sight inspired him with far stronger fears than any which he had hitherto known. Thus far he had considered the fire as arising from some one spot, and had thought of being able to evade it, even if he should reach the place where it might be burning; but now he began to feel as though the fires were all around him, rolling forward from every side towards him, and sending an advance march of smoke to bewilder him and lead him astray. This thought gave him a momentary pang, and a transitory feeling of despair crossed his mind. But this weakness was only short-lived. It soon passed, and his buoyancy of soul and sanguine temperament reasserted themselves.

At length, as he went along by the river side, he noticed, to his deep regret, that the pine woods ended, and were succeeded by a forest like that which he had traversed on the first day of his wandering. What was worse, it could not be avoided. He could not walk along the river bank, for it was lined with trees and shrubbery. He could not walk in its bed, for it was too deep. There was therefore nothing left to do but to make his way through the woods the best way that he could.

On entering these woods, the change was unpleasant in the extreme. It was necessary for him to keep near the river, and in order to do this he had to encounter without shrinking all the obstacles that lay in his way. He did not dare now to attempt to go round any of them, or to make short cuts, for he was afraid that if he got out of sight of the water once, he would never be able to find it again; and, therefore, at all hazards, and at every cost, he determined to keep it within sight.

These new efforts soon exhausted him, and he was forced to sit down and try to recover himself. As he sat there gasping, there seemed to be a more intense warmth in the air, a dry, torrid heat, a suffocating closeness, which was, far worse than it had been yet. He felt that under these circumstances his progress would be small indeed. He had only one thought now, and that was, to recover from his heat and exhaustion; and to do this he knew of only one thing, which was—a plunge in the water.

Tearing off his clothes now, he flung himself in the water, and felt once more its reviving influence. At this moment a new idea occurred to him, which filled him again with hope. It was, that he should remain in the river, and go on as he was, carrying his clothes with him. At this rate his progress would be far more rapid than it had just been; and he would be far less liable to feel fatigue. Acting upon this suggestion, he rolled his clothes up into as small a bundle as possible, but kept his boots on his feet, so as to walk without difficulty over the sharp sticks or stones that he might encounter; and now, slinging his bundle behind his back, he went on, walking near one of the banks, in water that was about up to his waist. His progress was certainly not very fast; but the plan was highly satisfactory, since he no longer suffered so much from that intense exhaustion to which he had been subject while forcing his way through the tangled brushwood. But at length he found himself assailed by myriads of mosquitos, and this infliction became so intolerable that he had to go into the deeper water of the mid-channel. Here, however, his progress was slow, and carrying his bundle was a great trouble.

Suddenly he saw a log lying near the shore, entangled among the brushwood. It was of cedar, and looked as though it had been cut for a telegraph pole. This at once offered him an easy and agreeable mode of progress, which was in every possible way superior to anything that he had yet tried. Walking towards it, he drew it out, and then placing it before him he bound his bundle upon it. He now pushed it in front of him, down the stream, and clinging to it, he struck out after it, sometimes swimming, sometimes walking. So buoyant was the log that it easily sustained his weight; and the complete success of this contrivance made Phil determine to make the rest of his journey in this way. So he once more stopped, and taking off his boots, bound them upon the log also. He was now divested of all his clothing, keeping on only his hat, which was useful both against the heat and the flies; and thus prepared, he once more pushed his log before him, and seeking the centre of the stream, began to move slowly down. The water here was now over his head; and the current was running at the rate of about three miles an hour. A very slight effort on his part served to increase his motion to a rate which was faster than any which he had been able to make yet; and he found himself going onward in a way in which he was able at once to secure both speed and coolness.

The musquitos were troublesome from time to time, but not continuously; and these he was able to evade by plunging his head under, hat and all, after which plunge the drip of the water from his hat about his head seemed both to cool him and to repel his assailants.

He now floated along, and was thus borne onward by the river, with many a turn and winding, amidst the forest. On either side arose the trees,—dark, solemn, and silent, for not a sound of any kind could be heard. The birds which usually made the forest vocal with their melody had fled to other places. In that torrid and smoky atmosphere there was no place for these children of song. Phil, as he floated in the cool current of the river, felt himself withdrawn completely from the heat and the smoke; but as he looked up he saw enough to make him feel grateful that he was where he was—that he had found a stream deep enough to sustain him in its waters, and swift enough to carry him onward without any severe exertion on his part. The smoke lowered darkly and menacingly overhead, and before him, where the river ran, it seemed accumulated in gloomier and denser masses. The air seemed even hotter, and as he at times plunged his head under the waters, he rejoiced to think that he had so near him such a perpetual remedy for heat and exhaustion.

He had now been in the stream for some hours, when at length he noticed a rising ground before him. It was a hill of no very great height, rounded and covered with trees; but behind this there seemed to be an agitation among the smoke clouds, as though there was concealed there the unseen cause of all these stifling vapors that filled the skies. This place Phil began to watch with deep interest and curiosity. He did not feel fear, for in his present position he did not anticipate any danger; but he expected that at this place he would reach what might be the climax of his adventures. The only real fear that he had was, not from fire, but from the water itself. He was apprehensive that he might come to a cataract, or to rapids. This danger certainly did not seem very imminent, or very probable, for the country was generally of too level a character to allow of waterfalls; but Phil thought of this as his only possible danger, and was consequently always on the lookout. Now, therefore, as he saw this accumulation of clouds, and the agitation that prevailed there, he did not perceive anything that could immediately affect him, and so he felt no terror.

The river had a winding course; and though it drew nearer and nearer to this hill, yet it approached it slowly, and by gradual advances. At length, on taking a turn round one of its bends, Phil could see that the hill was on the left bank, and that he would soon reach it, and pass round it in the next turn of the stream. Full of curiosity, he now drifted along, and waited for the next prospect that would be opened up behind the hill.

Nearer and nearer Phil approached, and stronger and stronger did his excited curiosity grow. The smoke, as he drew closer, was more distinctly revealed, rising into the skies in dark, rolling masses, as though sent up by some mighty power beneath. Nearer and nearer he came, and at length became aware of short, dull flashes of light, which, brightening for a moment, were soon obscured. It did not surprise him, for this was in some degree what he was expecting. Where there is smoke there must be fire; and if now the flames flashed forth, it merely proved that he was at last drawing near to that fire whose signs had filled the air for many days. And what should he see? What was it that could produce this veil of smoke that obscured the universal sky? Could it be near the haunts of men, and was it merely the commonplace process of clearing land? No; he felt that it could not be anything so ordinary as this. The signs which he had seen and felt for days arose from something more than the clearing of fields for cultivation. It was rather the march of a mighty conflagration through the forest, which devoured all things in its path, swept away the verdant trees, blackened and devastated the rich forest foliage, and sent afar in all directions the breath of its devastating mouth.

With these thoughts Phil drifted on, awaiting the disclosure of the great fire, and at length reached the hill. Past this he was slowly borne by the current which encircled it, and then, completing the circuit, swept onward upon its course.

Here, as Phil floated looking forward, the whole scene burst at once upon his sight. No obstacle any longer rose between him and the fire; he saw it in its reality—living and breathing before his eyes.

The river went on for about a half mile, and then took another turn. Half way between this hill and the next bend rose the flames of a vast conflagration, devouring the forest far and wide, extending on both sides of the river to the right and to the left. From Phil’s position he could not command any extensive view on either side, and, indeed, the smoke would have prevented that had he even been more elevated; but the scene before him was enough to convince him of the magnitude of the fire. Immediately in front, beginning from that point, lying midway between him and the next bend, the fires began, and extended till the river turned again upon its next circuit. On both sides of the stream the fires blazed up, and continued far away, reddening in the glow of a mighty conflagration. In the midst of this arose innumerable trees, standing up, black, blighted, and withered in the red fire; while over them the smoke leaped and rolled as it bounded upward. Nearer, the fires were brighter, for here they were incessantly advancing to attack new trees: and the flames could be seen darting, like lightning, upward from twig to twig, and from bough to bough, until tree after tree was enveloped in the raging fire. These were the cause of those flashes which he had noticed further up the stream, and indicated the advance of the fire in this direction. The foreground was thus most brilliant, most active, and most thrilling; but the background, with its innumerable array of blackened trunks rising from the midst of that dull, angry fire glow, and surrounded by the dark smoke clouds, formed a scene that was yet more terrible.