years of my life to be on any other errand than this, Ormond.”
Ormond made no answer. For the smoke was tart on his eyes and on his lips, and his breath came uneven and laboured. Behind the boys fought, each according to his kind; choking, blackened, sweating; with curses; with Lou’s light jokes, poison-tipped, to gall them; with light lips and staggering unconquered strength. The flames were very near. They singed away Lou’s shirt sleeve and the hair of his arm. He ripped the burning thing off and ran on.
A shout from Murray blew back to them, and Steve interpreted it.
“He’s sighted Roddy. Put yer back inter it, yer wasters. We’ll nab him yet.”
The smoke whirled up into a solid column that rammed the sky and seemed to split it. The whole lurid world beneath was struck out in reds; and Roddy ran down the narrow cleared track with the semblance of blood on his face and hands. Murray leapt after, with long strides. And Ormond alone saw the pain in his set grimed face.
The fire clawed at the track with long thin fingers; shrivelled, then clawed again. The sweat ran thick off each man, and ahead Roddy was reeling. Murray heard the breath pumping in his chest as he closed up.
“Roddy!” he shouted. “Roddy! Stop!”
