I tried to get up, but could not, so lay down again with my head upon my arm.
It grew cooler, and the atmosphere was clearer.

I got up, and, mounting my horse, turned homeward.

Now I began to think about the station.
Could it have escaped?
Impossible! The fire would fly a hundred yards or more such a day as this even in low plain.

No, it must be gone! There was a great roll in the plain between me and home, so that I could see nothing of our place--all around the country was black, without a trace of vegetation.

Behind me were the smoking ruins of the forest I had escaped from, where now the burnt-out trees began to thunder down rapidly, and before, to the south, I could see the fire raging miles away.
So the station is burnt, then?
No! For as I top the ridge, there it is before me, standing as of old--a bright oasis in the desert of burnt country round.