2018.08.27

It's Monday.

Pa's little fire had made a burned black strip. The little fire went backing slowly away against the wind, it went slowly crawling to meet the racing furious big fire. And suddenly the big fire swallowed the little one. The wind rose to a high, crackling, rushing shriek, flames climbed into the crackling air. Fire was all around the house.  Then it was over. The fire went roaring past and away. Pa and Ma were beating out little fires here and there in the yard. When they were all out, Ma came to the house to wash her hands and face. She was all streaked with smoke and sweat, and she was trembling. She said there was nothing to worry about. She said that the back-fire had saved them and all was well that ended well. The air smelled scorched. And to the very edge of the sky, the prairie was burned naked and black. Threads of smoke rose from it. Ashes blew  on the wind. Everything felt different and miserable. But Pa and Ma were cheerful because the fire was gone and it had not done any harm. Pa said that the fire had not missed them far, but a miss is as good as a mile. He asked Ma if it had come while he had been in Independence, what would she have done. Ma answered that they would have gone to the creek with the birds and the rabbits, of course. All the wild things on the prairie had known what to do. They ran and flew and hopped and crawled as fast as they could go, to the water that would keep them safe from fire. Only the little soft striped gophers had gone down deep into their holes, and they were the first to come up and look around at the bare, smoking prairie. Then out of the creek bottoms the birds came flying over it, and a rabbit cautiously hopped and looked. It was a long, long time before the snakes crawled out of the bottoms and the prairie hens came walking. The fire had gone out among the bluffs. It had never reached the creek bottoms or the Indian camps. That night Mr. Edwards and Mr. Scott came to see Pa. They were worried because they thought that perhaps the Indians had started that fire on purpose to burn out the white settlers. Pa didn't believe it. He said the Indians had always burned the prairie to make green grass grow more quickly, and traveling easier. Their ponies couldn't gallop through the thick, tall, dead grass. Now the ground was clear. And he was glad of it, because plowing would be easier.