occasional sounds of the forest creatures were no more disturbing than the
gentle murmurs of a dreaming child. Peace enfolded the forest. It seemed
to Charley as though that great, invisible, beneficent Spirit we call God
had cradled the forest in His arms as a mother cradles her little ones.
The thought comforted him. Something of the peace about him crept into his
own heart. He drew a long sigh and sat back.

After a time he began to feel drowsy. He took his blanket and his rifle,
and, closing his cabin door, climbed to the fire-tower. He closed and
bolted the trap-door in the floor of the tower. For some time he sat on
the edge of his bunk, watching the forest. Behind the eastern mountains
the sky began to glow. The moon was coming up. In another hour or two,
Charley knew, the forest would be flooded with silvery light. He loved the
moonlight on the pines, but he was becoming too sleepy to stay awake to
see it. The moment the moon's first rays shot over the eastern hilltops,
Charley lay back in his bunk, stood his rifle within reach, drew the
blankets about him, and was almost instantly asleep.

Yet he slumbered uneasily. Terrible dreams disturbed him. Once or twice he
awoke and started up in alarm. Once the slender tower seemed to vibrate as
though some one were mounting the ladder. But Charley dismissed the idea
as idle fancy, for the nocturnal stillness was unbroken. So, fitfully,
Charley slept through the night.

Dawn found him afoot. Eagerly he scanned the horizon. Banks of mist lay
over the valleys, concealing much of the forest. Slowly Charley examined
the horizon, half fearful, half relieved. From the two sides of his tower
he could see nothing disturbing. But when he turned to the third side his
heart stood still. Unmistakable in the whitish mist, darker clouds were
rising upward. The forest was afire.