And Jack kept pulling at her arm, helping her to keep her feet when she stumbled, which she did often, because she would not look where she was going.
"Don't look--run!" he urged, when another brand fell in a fir near them and set the whole tree ablaze.

The air around them was hot, like the breath of a furnace.
She did not answer him, but she let him lead her whither he would.

And they came breathless to the rocky outcropping through which the pack trail wormed its way farther down the hill.

There he let her stop, for he knew that they had passed around the upper edge of the fire, and were safe unless the wind changed.

He helped her upon a high, flat-topped boulder that overlooked the balsam thicket and manzanita slope, and together they faced the debauchery of the flames.
Even in the few minutes since Jack had stopped on that rocky knoll the fire had swept far.