The flames were all around him now;
birds without number, hares, and deer had gone down before the red
horror. He was plunging wildly on through chaparral and manzanita
thickets that held all feebler things until the fury seized them; his
hair was scorching, his wound was forgotten, and he thought only of
escape when the brush ahead opened, and the Grizzly, smoke-blinded,
half roasted, plunged down a bank and into a small clear pool. The fur
on his back said "hiss," for it was sizzling-hot. Down below he went,
gulping the cool drink, wallowing in safety and unheat. Down below the
surface he crouched as long as his lungs would bear the strain, then
slowly and cautiously he raised his head. The sky above was one great
sheet of flame. Sticks aflame and flying embers came in hissing
showers on the water. The air was hot, but breathable at times, and he
filled his lungs till he had difficulty in keeping his body down
below. Other creatures there were in the pool, some burnt, some dead,
some small and in the margin, some bigger in the deeper places, and
one of them was close beside him. Oh, he knew that smell; fire--all
Sierra's woods ablaze--could not disguise the hunter who had shot at
him from the platform, and, though he did not know this, the hunter
really who had followed him all day, and who had tried to smoke him
out of his den and thereby set the woods ablaze. Here they were, face
to face, in the deepest end of the little pool; they were only ten
feet apart and could not get more than twenty feet apart.
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